Classic Poem

In the omniloquent harangue
of wind on a high coast
nothing else is audible.
Osprey and herring gull
on the great Apostrophe hang
mute in one place, almost

not beating their wings. Seas
explode soundlessly among
dumb caverns, and sheep,
herded by fog up the steep
headlands, move with no noise
either of hoof or tongue.

Over these, over huge sherds —
bones of a continent,
jumbled beneath the cliff —
the wind thunders, as if
now were the Beginning, it the Word,
and the Deep just now rent.











By permission of the author.