Is this opportunity or fear,
dawning break or dusky cloud?
The launch, fresh hope in brave new world,
beyond the bar, the haven sound?
Tidemarks ripple with histories –
the stand Canute made in the sand,
sad farewell waves to pilgrim clan –
your choice declares which zeitgeist land.
Camargue, sea horses in the brine,
main Cresta Run on snowy slopes
the roar of Forties round the horn,
can all these be same element?
A storm to focus who dare trust,
caveman to sit in his right mind,
a catch to haul on other side,
thrice affirmed whom cock timed lie.
But here anachronistic source,
no plankton glow or Elmo fire –
luciferen, corona charge –
seems no escape that tidal wave.
This scenery, chicanery,
the juxtaposed grit filament;
perhaps transparent oyster shell,
the lightbulb should be pearl not clear?
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, from ministry in the Methodist Church, has had pieces accepted by some twenty on-line poetry sites including Poetry Potion; and Gold Dust, The Seventh Quarry, The Dawntreader, Foxtrot Uniform Poetry Magazines, Vita Brevis Anthology ‘Pain & Renewal’ & Fly on the Wall Press ‘Identity’. https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/