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Sunrise on Brancaster Beach

by John Gallas

Bent with gentle heaviness, the old,
bald head of earth, explained in yellow light,
gets licked to life again. The sea looks white,
like gnawed skin ; the wrinkled sand feels cold.
This is the end of night : and from its sleep,
whose sweet corruption burns me like a match
just struck, the world is laboured out. A patch
of peachy cloud turns pale. I shiver. Deep,
deep beyond the air where words, ideas
and minds are kept convinced, I only see
the churning of great planets – one with me,
the rest without. And then the sun appears
and all the earth is warm. And even I
applaud, with half a smile, the bloodless sky.

(This poem appears by kind permission of the author.)

Norfolk Poems




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