Chasing the acorn


On stiles, stones and signposts hidden unseen in the hedge
On lamp-posts and paving stones, incised along the edge
of inauspicious pavements – the symbol summons me,
As the white acorn dances by the ever-present sea.

The ox-eyed daisies stare at valerian pinks and reds;
And iridescent bugloss by poppied pastures spreads
Across a glowing landscape of mallow, thyme and thrift
As the grassy seeds scatter in the sun-rays’ drift.

Cliff-hanging peregrines and furtive choughs in the corn,
Yellow-billed kittiwakes wedged on weathered granite slabs;
Cormorants on craggy rocks and gannets storm-wind borne,
Turnstones turning stones and wading curlews crunching crabs.

Softly-trodden paths wend through beech and silver-birches;
Fishing boats on sandy shores with upturned rusting keels;
Bollard-stumped harbour walls, coiled chains and lobster creels,
And needlepoint kneelers within bell-towered Saxon churches.

Through kissing gates and wicket gates across a five-barred fence,
Finger-posts and white-washed stones – yet they call me hence;
Enticing ever onwards, the symbol summons me
As the white acorn dances by the ever-present sea.