I walk along the cliff path where
Clumps of purple heather are
Encroaching onto the footpath
Everything is so peaceful here
Bird's play between the clouds
Swooping down by the rocks and
At the last minute skimming their wings
Over the gently folding waves
I look down to the tiny harbour
The tide is fully in now and
Six small fishing vessels
Bob lazily atop the glistening water
Fishermen in heavy rubber dungarees
Are busy with their knives
Throwing remnants back into the water
To be picked off by seagulls
I navigate my way down the winding track
Through trees whose branches
Are laden with thickest green
A bench is set amongst these tall leaved statues
And I sit awhile
Listening to the rustling sounds
Gazing out past the harbour gate
Lost in my thoughts