~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 18) ~ By ~ Dewin Nefol ~
A cliffy crescent enclosed this bay,
East to West, curved each way,
To tapered ends sloping away,
Trailing into briny blue.
Tinting their tops, evergreen dell,
Candy glazed, greyness quelled.
Silhouetted trees, rouge rubbed leaves,
Foliage flush with blush.
Yet fleetly flittering dewy pink rose,
Sweetly deposed by mellow,
A sallow light, weak and wan,
Skies awash with yellow.
Drab and drear upon the sheer,
Gleamed a flaxen sheen,
Dim and grim upon the scree,
Quickly fled the scene.
Across the bay shadow scurried,
Behind boulders shade hurried,
Hastened, hounded, harried on,
Mercilessly chased by waxen sun.
Not yet cresting cliffy peaks: but,
Rising steadily soon to peep,
Soon to illume gloaming gloom,
Rouse Stygian from deep sleep.
At talus top, my brightened mount,
Sat in wonderment, gazing out,
I felt displaced, but yet embraced,
Interlaced within this special place.
Inseparable was I from waking dream,
More than just a perfect scene,
It stirred me in ways most curious,
Left me heady, delirious.
Full to brimming, senses swimming,
Drinking-in the view,
Dank wet-through with heavy dew,
Soon drunk on nature’s brew.
When then within my dreaminess,
A memory, vague and nebulous,
As if an echo from long ago,
Had burrowed deep inside.
I felt so sure I knew this shore,
Twas more than evocation: yet,
This not the view it’d been before,
But a weathered approximation.
Quickly, quickly, in rapid succession,
Thoughts flowed in quick procession:
A magical mage, a secret shrine,
Murderous intent, an abandoned mine.
I had no need to pause and ponder,
Only to muse upon my wonder,
For wonder it was, this revelation:
Exchanging mystery for illumination.
But yet, neither resolved nor crystal clear,
Questions remained unanswered here.
What was the source of these sudden notions,
That deeply stirred my emotions?
Surprised perhaps, but not perturbed,
A voice inside me softly heard,
I recognised her songbird chime,
The soulful beat of Nightingale’s rhyme.
“Watch and wait my dear Seer,
Soon all doubt will disappear.
When magic flows you will know,
What is to see before thee.”
And so it was without surprise,
Atop the scree ‘neath dawning skies,
I sat in awe as flocks of birds,
Made haste towards the bay.
Skuas, Shags, and Razorbills,
Spilled upon the shore,
Gannets, Gulls and Guillemots,
Frenetic with furore.
Gathered at a point beyond the rocks,
Shrieking, flapping around,
As if encircling something unseen,
Something upon the ground.
But this wasn’t fever of frenzied birds,
Hungry, driven to feasting.
Snip! Snip! Snip! Scissoring threads,
Twas Sentinels they were releasing!
~ Copse ‘n’ Corpse (Part 17) precedes this post. Part 19 to follow shortly ~