Image: Adapted from Canva Pro
There was an unobstructed vantage point, Parton Brow, With harbour views leading the eye to Moresby Mount. Looking south, you could watch cormorants floating, Then crouch between steep cliffs and the shoreline. North of the Calder, the curve of the railway was almost virile, And left the railway tunnel to the beach, becoming undone. This was the way to procrastinate, lost in a white noise of being, Searching personal foundations for checks and balances. Connections come with time, possibly when my feet have given out Or my muse, to coin a phrase, has stopped her tantrums. For now, I forget about an urgency to write about the village, Watch it reveal itself, gentle surprises hidden around each corner.
