In spring the granite split yields up
a greening spear, a tentative return
to salt and spray, though bitter winds
still whip the coastline clear
new leaves unfurl to meet the lengthening day
and summer’s crimson fire, ignites the rocky ledge
defying the tides that thunder down below
it opens wide upon the cliff’s stark edge
to drink the sun and feel the south wind blow
as autumn arrives the petals wrinkle
touched by the rust of the brine
heavy waves roll in
bruising the darkening shore
the fading colours of the blooms
align with the grey horizons, slowly changing
when winter starts it art
all that remains against the gale
the skeletal trees shifting in the sleet
while deep below, where the freezing mists prevail
the wild dahlias await the coming heat
©Ann Bagnall
