By Keith Woodhouse
The night was over
And the sea curds crackled
And bent,
crisply, in the deadening rays
Of morning,
As she sank into the bank
Of the sand speckled
Tulip blossom
And angry
Red spangled pupil sun.
The flat marram pools
spoke lizards
To the turkey sitting on an egg yolk.
Country chunk animals
Jumping,
Sheep hopping over styles
And farm-captained land
Grand and handsome
In the green wheat field
Sun shaken fairy-tale,
Magic castle,
Dancing,
Peopled and happening.
Featured picture: Wet Afternoon by Eric Ravillious, View of the Church of St Mary Capel y Ffin Powys 1938
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