Poem of the Month

Descent of Blaven by Clare Roberts


Wind nips and tendrils tickle my cheeks,

eyes blinking grit to find a way.

Hunkered figures grow from rocky outcrops

boots skitter stones from the gabbro.


Plump raindrops firm to pellets

washing footholds away with shifting gravel

mist disorientating, wind bur deafening.

Wet dolerite distorting compass bearings.


Sunburst opens a fleeting vision and I see

swards of silver water and seaweed spun to bronze,

moon’s power tracing rippled bracelets,

burnished spores, rushing waves, welcome shores.