Kent (2)
by R L Tilley
Jesters on the
streets of Canterbury - jellyfish on the shores
of Shell Ness - the women in the tea garden over
the Slope and the Street - walks on the Street -
dog barking in the wind - the tide encroaching -
crab and Dover sole and potted shrimps at the
Whitstable Oyster Company - Friday night crying
on the wind out of the Neptune pub - two young
men walking by the sea wall hail the dog and I -
the sun going down over the bay, the sky streaked
with a roseate glow - dark, almost black romantic
figures silhouetted against sunset sea and sky
through the restaurant window - girl with balloon
- man rocking baby in his arms - the Duke of
Cumberland pub, its stable yard and ornate
function room - pints of Bishop’s Finger in
the evenings, but most of all the light, the
light going down over the Ooze, the Swale, oh -
Tankerton slopes where the hogs fennel grows -
and, from the beach on Sheppey, Reculver Towers
loom, distant. Long Rock, where we didn’t go
this time - St Agnes fish market - the harbour
and aggregate and water sprays and vanished
museums - oysters in the bay - vistas of big
skies and deceptive gentle sea and sucking mud
flats and oyster catchers and black headed gulls
and now, these gentle days in the light are done.
We go. Amen.
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