Spring brings forth its first flush

Bright and green

In something of a haste and rush

Or so it seems

Desperate to cover up the bold baroness of winter

 

Over marsh , over rock

Over branch and over root

Broken thorns cascade and rub

Inside my boot

As we tramp our way along the coastal path

Walking in a troop

 

The water below lapping, slapping

Gently clapping against the rock

Sometimes blue and sometimes green

The waves now calm and gentle

No sign of foam, frenzy or spew

 

The edge of rocks streaked

 with black strewn seaweed

looking like dark and shattered hills

not to be out done a yellow flower

radiates from the gorse

first in the race to show its hue

 

later we come upon a small fall of water

As it creates a splash tripping over several stones

Its place of repose is a holy well

Before reaching its goal, the sea

 

Further down the path across a wall of rock

Names and dates etched into the stone

Some unidentifiable letters and 1864

Open up another time

Another door

 

Meanwhile gulls hang on the wind

Above a cliff

 Their bodies, wings and beaks completely stiff

Then all at once the thermal drops

And it’s dive boys dive, dive, dive

 

Finally our party reaches the end of the trek

The path drops down and on to a beach we step

Stones skimmed across the water

Now knowing we have arrived

And our steps did not falter