(A skylark on Orton Scar, May 2018)
At the bottom of an ancient sea
now lifted high, the
mermaid’s song was heard.
So piercing sweet each wave
of liquid sound,
entrancing in our ears.
What gentle magic this
to hold us, still, not
to disturb the song.
The tiny, maestro singer,
trying his repertoire,
for our delight alone.
Limestone pavement now
a sunlit stage, his song
a solo gift to us.
End of ‘Beyond The Fence’