On Bempton Cliffs

On Bempton Cliffs I hear the waves below the cliffs, I smell the new-ploughed soil, I hear the gentle whirr of bees And watch the clouds pass me by. On top of Bempton Cliffs I stand, A headland proud, above the shore. Far below the rocks withstand The thud and crash of North Sea waves. The sun above: its light now dancing On waves below in glittering sparkles; A fleeting spray, a momentary halo Of diamonds, flashing high. The sunlight catches the flutt’ring wings Of puffins racing across the spray. Noisy kittiwakes with fish they bring To nests that cling to ledges so high. From heights above a lark now sings Unseen, but soaring high and free. From east the gentle breeze now brings The sounds of surf from far below Overhead, the keening cries Of herring gulls who swoop and fly Proclaiming ‘tis they who rule the skies Above the cliffs and sea so high. Through the fiendish bustle below Haughty gannets sleekly glide, No lordly favours to any bestow, Onward, unperturbed, side by side. Puffins and gulls in crowded profusion; Their nests on ledges inches wide Perched on cliff in perilous fashion - A frenzied city on rock face clinging Above I see the soaring chase And hear the restless realms below; I feel the sun upon my face And feel the breeze so gently blow. The sun is warm, air now still, My drowsy mind is put to test As back I lie on chalky soil Perchance to ponder as now I rest. Detached from all I start to think Of heaven’s demesnes in the skies And restless realms upon the brink With life frenetic and shrieking cries. A cliff-hanging city, so congested Squabbling and scrabbling above the rocks; Above, a world not constrained Fresh and free in every way. One below, one so high One so brutal, one so free – On the cliffs and in the sky What manner of worlds are these I see? I hear the waves below the cliffs, I smell the new-ploughed soil I hear the gentle whirr of bees And sleepily see the clouds slip by……. 12 September 2013 Bempton Cliffs forms a chalk headland, jutting into the North Sea, north of Bridlington, East Yorkshire. The cliffs here are a Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) reserve. Many sea birds are to be seen here, nesting, feeding, squabbling and disappearing out to sea. This poem was written after many enjoyable hours watching the birds, walking along the cliffs and studying the geology of the area. The original version was accompanied by photographs of some of the birds and of the cliffs.