Dull sleepy clouds withdraw
Leaving us the warm remains
Of the sun tipping towards
Tyneham Cap
We chase the last rays
Up the hill
Up knee buckling steps
To the watching Folly Tower
We watch the fire dance
Scorching off to the West
Then the hard descent
Into the slow still twilight
Sight gives way to sounds
Owls start to resonate
Distant voices over fields
Night closes moonlessly
Then
Bursting from the scrub
Overwhelming Nightingale song
Lapping on every inbound wave
Reflecting on every cliff fold
Transforming everything.
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