I am perched precariously,

Vicariously,

Atop a Cornish cliff,

Stiff breeze at my back.

The sky, a shroud

Of thickened cloud,

Through which

An October sun

Barely penetrates.

Gulls seesaw

On freshening breeze,

Quiet today,

Pleased to stay.

I come here

Sometimes,

To meditate,

Ruminate,

Or speculate,

On the turmoils

In my world.

Suddenly,

I see

Two huddled figures,

Joined by smiles,

Hand in hand,

And I know,

That love's warm glow,

Is alive, and well

In the world.

                                      _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Owain Glyn