And I Heard Again Those Voices
And I heard again those voices,
Buoyed upon a murmuring wind,
And oyster-catchers with their
Distinctive, shrill-piping call;
The plaintive cries of floating
Curlews,
Carrying on that wind,
As spilt sunset
Settled over the ruby-red, wine-coloured
Moor.
Blazing purple heathers --
Distant bellows from rutting stags --
The whirling grouse...
And close by, opposite my quiet little
Door,
Seldom seen otters, whistling when
Calling their playful mates,
Splashed and sported in shallow runs
And shadowy pools:-
Opaque, amber waters, swathed
In brilliant starlight,
Reflecting intensity displayed overhead;
Night's rich velvet skies encrusted in
Sparkling jewels.
Yes, as darkness begins to fall,
With drowsy eyes half-shut...
Again, I see and hear it all.
For it is certain, I have now become
Familiar with what is truly meant...
To have to endure an ever waking
Discontent.
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