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by Charles Bennett

When we walked up the hill above Salthouse
and saw, looking down where we’d been

ourselves on the beach waving back –
we were here and there and no-place

coming and going at once, perceiving
the speckled clouds as sleeping seals,

as we dipped our toes in the breeze
and watched from the hill’s shoreline

a kestrel come in with the tide,
and hold his stillness open

over the ship weathervane
of a church that was floating and drowned,

his shadow on the ground beneath him
the anchor that kept him aloft.

© Charles Bennett. This poem appears by kind permission of the author.

Norfolk Poems





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