I went to Penally and,

caught down poems,

from the land, and the sea, and the sky,

A Viagra for the lack of words,

When words from life run dry.

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Bright sunshine falls across grass fountains,

Sparkling against the dark green sod,

And dune crakes chorus their fishwife chatter,

Conversation with talking but no listening,

Sweet trill and chaff and coarse, guttural croak,

Pervades the furrowed dunes,

Whilst sea falls in wavelets upon the shore,

At pre-turn flat sea,

Beneath the dark faced island.

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