The Promontory

The Promontory: Summer Dusk

Evening here
is the clear sweep of bay,
the quiet arc of water
caught by dusk’s edge,
softened there,
still.
Evening here
is heather and cromlech,
virgin turf,
              a sudden breeze
upon the cheek;  the distant
bleat of a wayward sheep come home.
              Evening here
is the silence of great stones.


The Promontory:  A Pledge

I will return there in the winter,
when clouds pile ragged
in the sky and the wind shifts
high over the waves
biting endlessly at Wales.
I will return there when
the gale roars strife,
when cliff-birds cling
to their kingdom of rock,
when brine-shocked boulders
grumble in blind caves;
when deep in the worried sea
the shellfish nations
rave in silent chaos.
When the sun has died,
when the last white gull
is crucified,
when winter comes I will return.

From ‘Welsh Past and Present’

8 thoughts on “The Promontory

  1. Very powerful and beautiful description of nature. It’s like closing my eyes and forming an image of the Welsh coastline. To return in Winter would be harsh indeed though!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Cicymru. Living there in Winter was harsh, but beautiful. I wrote this one at the end of a summer, and fed up of tourists tramping all over the place.

      Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Viv. Living on the very extremity of west Wales in the winter was an unforgettable experience, especially in my lonely old house.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Roma. Yes. We used to catch the full force of the sou’westerlies coming right off the Irish Sea up there on the Garn.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Jacydo. The first was written at a season when the place was at peace. The second, after tourists had been trampling all over it and I couldn’t wait for winter to come round again. I loved the autumn and winter there best of all, I think. Wild as can be.

      Liked by 1 person

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