Sennen Cove

Blackbird

This is not the colourless season

of margins and absences

This is the black and white time

Sharp in the dawn this one pure note.

Thorn Tree

Wind, monoliths, salt on my lips

This high hinterland furrowed

by plough, waves of lapwing and fieldfare

Me, resilient, gale-swept.

Glass

January’s first day, and everything

yet to be broken

Washed, untrodden sand; deep sky;

this wave, caught at its curl’s apex.

String

Kelp, green weed, boulders like seals

Everything always the same, and forever changing

I am the tether

of this moment’s kite.

Tide

There is the white sand

and there my welling footsteps

There is the prowling tide

and then only water.

– Roselle Angwin

(Published in Looking For Icarus, (bluechrome 2005)