A PARTIAL ECLIPSE
The cacophony of gulls stops suddenly
as if rehearsed – and the sunlight on the beach
of stones becomes denatured, theatrical.
The moment lasts, lasts – a suspense of time
for the five of us alone on the shore
of that inlet older than counting.
Step by step the old sun returns, warming
the stones tonight’s high tide will cover.
We can hear distant bird song from the headland –
a wood pigeon’s wistful notes – and I,
like some resuscitated prophet,
acknowledge aloud that my sceptical heart
and soul are not entirely immune
to wonder or to awe.
Pat Rogerson
August 28, 2026A lovely poem, David. We found a spot above Benllech and armed with welder’s green glass we watched. An hour of peace and calm not to be forgotten in this chaotic world.
Jeff Teasdale
August 28, 2026Rhoscolyn dimmed… BBQ paused… ‘iechyd da’ all round with Welsh Aber Falls G&Ts … son phones from Galician Mondoñedo… total darkness for him, his last time being in Cornwall decades ago…in heavy cloud.
Until the next one!
sizwe vilakazi
August 28, 2026I remember that the theatre director, Joe Sumsion, used the word ‘cacophony’ a lot during rehearsals… Wonderful poetry