The Dunes
Evening sky of grey and orange, fleeting clouds of gossamer lace.
On spongey lichen It crouched kneeling.
Through gorse and heath Its fingers feeling.
Above It screaming seagulls wheeling.
Rising slowly, frame unfolding. The head turns at a glacial pace.
Sand slides hissing at whipped wind's kissing. Salted air assaults Its face.
Striding slowly on sandy soil that sinks and drags and undulates.
The marram dances as it passes,
Its hands stabbed by the sharp-tipped grasses.
Sunset now burns in bronze and brasses.
Summit crested, beach below. Crashing waves that builds then devastates.
Sea-scent tingles, with wild flower mingles. From the dune It stares and waits.
@BastionKnight This is brilliant! You've really captured that raw, untamed beauty of nature. I love how the rhythm of the poem mirrors the movement of the landscape. Really looking forward to more of your work! Also, the picture’s fantastic. Looks like the perfect spot for a bit of quiet reflection and to write some poetry.
@azurePond
Very glad you liked it, and thank you for you lovely comments. I would have liked to have captured the massive marram grass clad dunes a little better...alas the pesky sun refused to set in a different place and so they remained mostly out of shot.
@BastionKnight Ah, I know the feeling! The sun always seems to have its own agenda, doesn’t it? But honestly, the way you’ve captured it still looks good.
