Chapel Porth Postcard
Picture a narrow tranquil track
Beside the dancing ringlets of a tumbling stream
Close roofed by a thousand mad maypoles of spring blossom
Then to be fanned as you pass by wild flowers
Each bursting for the attention of a droning throng
That scatter hither and thither
Confused it seems by the heady scent of grass fresh mown
With all things so bright and beautiful
The Sunday school innocence of childhood is pleasantly recalled
And the spirit is lifted in contentment
The valley now broadens to a vast swathe of soft sea washed sand
Beyond the eyes reach
Margined by a looming curtain of mist that veils the mighty surf
But not its mighty roar
A mighty roar echoed by the soaring granite cenotaphs to long gone miners
That sculptured by the elements of time
Rise and rise again as if to touch the sky
It is here you can gambol like a mad March fool
Amongst the dunes with your loved ones
More likely though you will stand transfixed
And gaze and gaze in trepid awe
At the ever changing splendour of nature's imagination
Reflection here will ask about your faith
Did he who made the lamb make this?
Think well before you answer.
by Peter H Jeffery, Crowborough, East Sussex
(reproduced here by kind permission of the poet).
