At St Abb’s Head


We watched the angry, grabbing waves,
White claws in grey-green gloves that tore
The stacks of rock along the cliff
Then fell back with a furious roar
Frustrated that they couldn’t drag
The landscape into boiling seas,
And so instead sucked in their breaths
And smashed the shoreline. By degrees
The incensed panting drew us closer
To the edge, and holding tight,
We saw the ocean froth with hate
And spit its venom at the night.


18 responses to “At St Abb’s Head

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