The Weybourne cliffs

The Weybourne Cliffs

Walking on the Webburn cliffs,
on a clear bright July morning
so much to be seen
in the plant-life on the tops
the summer having been so wet
the wild flowers all were blooming
together, not in sequence
for the prettiest picture yet.

The larks were singing Glories
as they rose into the cyan air
their vertical ascent distracting
raiders from their nests
they were likened unto angels
not white, but brown, and miniature
and filled with Hallelujas that came
tumbling from their breasts.

Looking from the cliff-top
out to sea, beyond the pebbles
the bobbing of the marker buoys
told tales of crab-pot lines
their coloured flags were waving 
briskly on the rolling waters
like some celebrating seals
at Coronation party time.

The sky was vivid blue
and that self-same regal hue
was reflected on the waters,
normally sandy brown and dull
and if a cloud should intervene
the colour changed from blue to green
but there was nothing in that morning that
could cause the soul to lull.

Walking inland from the shore line
cross the railway 'long by Scots pine
eating chocolate on a bench
then stepping back into the sun
heard the steam train's whistle rent the air
and watched it chuntering along
A July day enjoyed, and then
remembered when it's done.