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Beside the first angle in the zigzag steps

that descend steeply to the lighthouse –

where I have stopped to rest lungs and knees

and vow again this will be the last –

unique to this place on our planet

a fleawort is growing, its flowerheads

like miniature sun flowers. A red beaked chough

calls from the heathland above – pyrrhocorax,

pyrrhocorax. I can see Ireland from here –

the hills and mountains south of Dublin –

over an indigo sea whose waves

are barely ripples. Before taxonomies,

before words is wonder.




© Copyright David Selzer
1 Response
  • John Huddart
    March 25, 2019

    Thank you for taking us on your journey!

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