Skomer in May

skomer in May pic

her flowers in the morning

bluebells freed
from forgotten trees
by ancient civilisation
to the wild ocean,
Atlantic rocks crested
by waves of defiant
white campion

her manxies by daylight

in among the beauty
lie little bags of bones,
victims of the bright night,
as scattered mourning stones

her greater black-backeds

remote killer, hungry hard gaze,
what can you possibly think
when I know you only because
your legs are distinctly pink

her puffins

step back, step back
just a little
once or twice with a wiggle,
admire your hole
and do a shit,
a joy to see
when you give it

her guillemots

brave guillemots will nest
where they find place to rest,
and lay footprints upon a cliff
in row and row and row…
rolling close to breakers but safe
as all brave guillemots know

her ravens

nest on a cliff
nearly next to me
yet unreachable
across spuming,
churning tide and spit,
only through my lenses
never seeing
the things you see

her skylark

I didn’t expect to see you
so silent
and still, avoiding my gaze
but the camera finds you
and shows you there
grounded, lying
low on your nest in the Spring rain,

her lesser black-backeds

egg-shell fragments
blessing bracken
like wind-carried salt,
the young gull
long flown
or just gone?

her jackdaw

Jackie dear friend,
on cold rocks in ancient rain,
you stood firm to indulge us
with kind moments of happiness.
Thank you.

her cliffs in the rain

from the air
above and below
from sea swallowing sky
from the evening
drawing near

her manxies by night

your sounds
sound human
to my soul and more
they make me feel,
they make me invisible

my choughs

All absent
though just two days ago
I saw you
flying high,
high above Marloes sands.
And I hope to fly with you
there again.

the boat to Martin’s Haven

like cattle tied to swim
for their lives
we depart in order
to return


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