The Slapton Line

Long sweeping curve of the bay 
Thread of yellow
Meets mist
And foreboding cloud
Disappearing into a charcoal sky.
Whipped up waves
Churn against the shoreline;
Light plays on the ever changing surface
Of indigo and grey;
A constant movement of the beast
A heaving mass of rolling wave
Surges and falls;
Hides the creatures that live beneath its surface.
No sign of porpoise or seal,
And where is that great Leviathan we once saw?
When eyes trained for hours
Were rewarded with
That great spout of water and arch of the tail;
That spectacle so great;
Nothing today but
Random illusions from
Effervescent forces,
The damp wind in the face
And voices blown away on salted air.

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