BOSCASTLE: Fox Rocks…
An urban fox seemed to nudge a slim lower jaw
Onto a ruffled, disturbed tide,
Maybe sensed, possibly even saw
Prey; probably then flexed a claw
At mackerel his keen eye had spied…
Yet, silhouetted against an ocean’s roar,
Black against the channelled furore,
A cruel rock-face prevailed and virtual imagery died…
Pete Ray
Boscastle, at the harbour’s entrance and one high cliff dropped like a fox’s mouth to the sea…
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| FROM THE VERY TOP, PICTURED BELOW... |
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