24. Betony

Betony, its tousled, purple flower head
maintains a careless, strange perfection
sheltered from eyes incision
on the cliff top, teased with grasses
damped by wind that scuffs its salt-breath
off the tops of smothering waves;
distorts the green world’s predilection
persuading grotesque deviation
from Scots Pine, Oak and Sycamore.

A carnival of midget trees that show
their stranger selves, un-regimented growth,
how normal
expectation
is constrained.

From this ledge all boundaries blur.
The wide sea mingles high and low
dismantles, loosens,
breaks the chain of broadleaf woodland,
seeding hazel and woodbine on the shore.

Colour bleeds.
Light cheats eyes, steals the shape of things
where nature’s madness shows,
and time comes racing on the ripping tide;
or rises winkle slow.