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


Sheep hopping over styles

And farm-captained land

Grand and handsome

In the green wheat field

Sun shaken fairy-tale,

Magic castle,


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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