Taken in the Outer Banks, a narrow stretch of land – sometimes less than 50 yards wide – that reaches out into the Atlantic Ocean for more than 100 miles, including Corolla Bay, in North Carolina.
God in his heaven never bettered this;
Never hit perfection more square-on.
Rugged cliffs lip the strand,
Opening to fields behind,
The Atlantic, white-layered,
Sweeping into the bay,
Its hurry washed-out
By the tug of sand, gently rising,
A tangle of marram crowns the dunes,
Tousled, like windswept hair;
Whilst, on the slopes nearby,
A line of white cottages
Vie for prominence with the old church
Yet, it is the call of the waves
That steals most of the aces;
Those riderless white horses
Sweeping relentlessly in,
With their whispering lisps;
‘I love you, please don’t go,
I love you please don’t go’
And I, watching the ebb-tide dragging them back,
Silently mouthing in their wake;
‘She loves me, she loves me not,
She loves me, she loves me not…’
MAN OF STEEL
I fuse bits of metal together;
A sculptor of steel.
Comes alive in my hands.
Angle-iron,flats,beams and round bars
Are my materials.
I heat them, bend them
Shape them and weld them.
I can make anything with steel;
A strong frame
That will hold a skyscraper
A steel hull
That can ride the waves;
I can even make a boxy flower-pot stand.