Soar Mill Cove...
Shivers of shallow drained water
Hurrying, twirling, declining,
Bolstering a stream, rushing
Headlong into the Cove,
Tearing at compacted sand,
Widening its channel, its core,
Eddying, swirling and gushing
At an ebbing tide;
Waves slashing, stumbling and pushing
At rocky outcrops,
Harnessing the fresh surge,
Teasing it with salt, tainting
The land’s flurry and painting
A weathering, unsettling furore…
Pete Ray
Soaring
Squalling ire blasts rain,
Squirting at dark glass,
Spitting gall at lounge,
Spinning myriad shrubs bending,
Shaking sullen heads thrashing,
Slashing sea at Cove,
Slapping patio slabs,
Soaking fresh-mown grass…
Pete Ray
Soar Mill Cove Hotel, as a rain-squall hammered at the windows and shook the dusk shrubs in a swirling wind.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.