Cliff
Note
The
rocks up which I scrambled as a child
have
altered slightly
although
there are not many
who
could tell you how
the
gradient of the narrow path
has
gathered slate
in
a broken build-up of shards
and
is less steep these days
or
how the different coastal grasses
have
set up in scattered camps
advancing
up the cliff face where
only
the toughest moss and lichen went
before
not many would notice
the
missing glare
from
the mother of pearl
littering
the mussel beds
buried
by now in a coral blanket
or
the furious stares
of
a fearless pair
of
mating Peregrine falcons
wedded
to an impossible ledge
nesting
on a knife’s edge
no
there are not many who would
notice
that was gone
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