Fathom Fog

Fathoms deep and Fathoms high, an island in its own sea.

Bottomless valleys fluid with fog –

flowing waves, rolls, peaks and troughs,

shaped by the invisible land below.

Sinuous movement revealing sudden vistas…

a tree with its own bow wave,

a steeple appearing ghostly with grey rags flying flags from its tip.

The curved hills clean-sliced into momentary sea cliffs,

diving into the unknown of the misty marine, hidden point breaks.

Frost-white shining edges mapping the landscape with a new ocean.

Surf breaking in slow motion against forest and heath,

Crows riding the swell, black wings soul-arched.

Spume randomly lifting from the waves,

white horses, torn mare’s tails drifting against the blue sky

subliming in the azure.

Indigo fading to pearl opalescence in the vaulted heights.

Pale winter beams stir the surface.

The tide turns, ebbing vapours drift and disappear,

the cloudy sea surrenders itself to the drying wind.

Dissolving, dispersing dissipating…

… and gone.

This poem was written by Abby McSherry inspired by a view from Flagstaff Amenity site on Fathom mountain, you can reach this site by walking up from Victoria Locks along the Lock-keepers’ Pad footpath.