A Cornish Cliff
By Bobby Johns
The cliff massively monumental, majestically stands, its feet firmly planted in sand of its pulverized self. The cliff crafted from molten rock, cooled by sea winds and sculpted by South Westerly gales.. The cliff, face pocked with ragged nests alive with screeching , wing flapping sea birds. Loose rocks fall dislodged by goats feeding , meagerly, on the sparse grass girding gashed paths. Small eye socket caves split the vertical nose like ridge above which, a bulging overhanging brow frowns. Smooth cheeks of softer rock,bejeweled with sun drenched minerals, contrast the steep starkness. The cliff contentedly listens to the tune of the on shore breeze as it jostles and combs its hair of Sand Rushes. The gurgling full tide touches the Cliff’s toes, cheeks turn red stained by the setting sun. The cliff waits for the flashing farewell of the sun slipping below the sea’s watery horizon. A rising mist mixes with lengthening shadows and covers its face. The cliff eagerly awaits the arrival of its friend. It sees her dancing over the distant country’s stage, Soon she will, once again, dance before him. Dawn, her chorus and glory. The Cliffs of Godrevy Head in Cornwall. U.K
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