At low water the sand flats stretch unbroken
down the Dee estuary’s English coast
to the reed beds of Parkgate and Burton Marsh;
stretch beyond the islands in the river’s mouth –
Hilbre, Middle Eye and Little Eye –
towards the wind turbines in Liverpool Bay;
then along the head of the Peninsula,
past Meols, Leasowe, Wallasey and New Brighton,
to join the mudflats of the Mersey.
At low water the sand flats are safe to cross
to the islands – and you might feel you could walk
to that wind farm on Burbo Bank, or walk
to Wales and reach Snowdonia’s ranges,
despite the channels you cannot see,
and the waves encroaching which you cannot hear,
let alone see, because of the constant sound
of endless, restless, distant waters.
Here are such large skies of shifting clouds,
long veils of rain, unbroken sunlight –
such immense firmaments. This is a place
of horizons and mirage, of disquiet,
and exhilaration, like a lost element,
a lost dimension, as if you might glimpse
heaven or angels, or whatever else
may be at the world’s edge.
By David Selzer