On Bray Head, Valentia
by Richard Sumner
The lichen on these rocks is pale and green
in little tufts just like a brush. This one
has vivid blotches bright as orange peel.
And here's a tilted slab where we can lie
upon our fronts, and peep over the edge ...
Oh wow! The cool fresh breeze blows in our hair,
As down below the mighty rollers come
In endless power from far across the sea,
to crash! and boil onto those jagged rocks,
and seethe into a churning foam of white,
which dazzles cream-and-turquoise in the sun.
And see that reef protruding fifty yards
offshore? - and count the waves! You have to wait
until a huge one comes and catches it ...
This one? - explodes!, and high into the air
there leaps a huge white fan of gleaming foam;
Ooh! -that's just like a firework display!
Above the seething waves the gannets fly,
so effortlessly mastering the wind,
while smaller fulmars wheeling round the cliffs
are bringing food to mates perched on each ledge.
The sun is warm. Let's stroll along the head
on springy turfs and pretty clumps of thrift;
But look inland to see a darker view,
where grey-green mountains rise to lose their tops
in melancholy hoods of frowning cloud.
We think it may be windy, cold and wet
up there, -yet here we stroll in pleasant warmth,
and feel the sunshine giving us a tan.
We make our way by country lanes and banks
of bluebells, speedwell, even fuchsia grows
and flowers in the hedge. The whinchats call
and joyful skylarks sing above our heads.
"A lovely day!", we say as we return
to peat-smoke smells of homely Cahirciveen,
a cheering fire, and whiskeys after tea.
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