The Place (my heart lies)

I imagine the place

high on the crest of a wave.

Birds float, riding reins

of galloping tides and sea spray clouds

that envelop rock and stone.

Attacked and embraced

an enemy faced

eternally battered by ocean lines

but steadfast and still in salty battles.

In calmer breezes, waves lap toes

of majestic giants;

magnificent stony-faced guardians;

protectors of the soft flesh

of England's torso.

The ocean in submission, retreating.

My heart lies high on the dappled face,

cooling itself in rapid winds

forgetting itself in sea-blue dreams

it's home in the spoils of a battle won

on a cliff's high shoulder,

Proud and at peace.