foam

the Causeway to Ballintoy

This is the oldest interface

This shining water crashing against cliff

This rock immovable against the sea

Inside the cliff , a niche

Is carved but not by human hands

A white bird crouches there , perhaps on eggs

She has a nesting look but then gets up to stretch her legs

And there are none that I can see
 so maybe she’s just resting for a while

 Spreading out their argon wings and hung

Like open books , ecstatic in the sun

The cormorants line up on the wave-swept rock

Throw back their dragon heads and breathing ozone in the air

 like glassy skittles

 of the wrack

anchored
and growing from the stone

with strung together bladder floats

and sliding , slipping , bands of gold and tawny hair

I’m leaning over , looking down

the cliff edge to the churning clash

of elements so far below

The waves are whipping up a froth

And clustered bubbles blow up in the breeze

And caught in currents , updraughts , spinning

Up past my face - the size of sugar mice

And up and up , in front of clouds

And landing down like cauliflowers

Of iridescent feathers on the grass

Anita Greg , Ballintoy , co Antrim , 24/08/2019