Saturday 6th May 2023
Loudest on our road today,
A sedge warbler:
Unstoppable its exultation, tireless as
The jubilates of the high vault skylarks.
I can pace this aisle of tarmac without fear of traffic,
All-eared for more distant birds not drowned by engines.
Bees throng my procession route,
Where all the pollen-rich flower flags display.
No sound of crowds; just as loud, the roar
From surf on the St Brides Bay shore, white-waving.
Security, yes: of reality, not electronic imagery so manipulated –
I am truly here, upon this beach
Which is more magnificent than any abbey and,
For not being by politic religion contrived, pledged pure.
Pale gold sand, spread in acres for my feet and some few others’;
Guardsman neatness of oystercatchers sentrying the silvergleam tideline.
We swim in the emerald water, emerge sea-anointed;
Our heads drip diamonds as we robe in towels of royal blue.
Return, now, pearled by ocean’s mizzle,
Past blossom-resplendent gorse and blackthorn courtiers,
Tall attention-braced milord Alexanders,
And daintier breeze-curtseying cow parsley ladies in waiting.
© Christopher Jessop 2023
