Come this autum we'll be miles away....
We'll follow the arrow-head of some sky-bourne south seaking flock.tide-pitched down to where the white
Horses thunder miles out to sea. Ivory-tipped, tremendous and vast, a voice that echoes with a primal past
And in the lattice of bones, a voice answers......
Oh, these knife-blade waves will cut my flesh:
Their blustering threat simply melts to foam halts
Vapours and is gone. the startling bright aggression
Is just a play of the light. the stiff whipped-peaks that
Volley and fly will settle a blanket at our feet. in their
Weedy depths, they speak softly, murmer of some secret
Tenderness. a word uttered in private, never to be
Repeated. listen it is a language poignant and exact
I can't tell you exactly how what i feel for you - the words
Inarticulate, resonate in the belly of the waves....
Take my hand;
We'll mark a path amongst the pebblea and the ripe salt
Pools that brim with the smell of s**. there is nothing here
To hem us in overhead the sky stretches for miles