Halvergate Marshes

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I’ve seen you before,
Wild wilderness of sky.
Union, flat oh flat table topping,
Clouds mount and rear, overarching space and time,
Shadows, sunlight glimmer dykes and streams,
Frog hopping weed-caked ditches gleam,
As marsh-hoppers hop, hop, hop over on open paths,
That hold meadows fresh, hay cut dream.
Cranky needles of abandoned fences,
Segregate four legs from grazing four,
Painted ponies, sheep, titanium white dots over verdant green.
Skulking over raptors stalk, in grass and reed,
Grumpy children set in willow nests to feed.
Lonely willow tufts hide wet, damp hollows,
Or rare marsh cottage isolated, all alone,
Sad and private for the man,
Who works the wind-pumps wirlygigs of salt-sea blow,
Or towers that crumble, home sweet home,
Paths with no where else to go.
A place to be so all alone, drowning in the empty,
Washed by the crushing sky,
Scattered bird song, sundown dusk, the winds soft, fading sigh.
The hunting heron hears the wild deer’s cry.