Well, strictly speaking I guess it should be retina, but it doesn’t quite have the same ring to it! After a week exploring yet more of south Cornwall I felt compelled to pen some prose about all things Cornish.
Cornwall reminds you in sometimes very bleak, stark terms, that away from urban spaces humans are vulnerable. Exposed to the elements we are at the mercy of nature, but for the most part, we are furnished beyond measure with every conceivable bucolic blessing.
Ancient, Celtic landscape demands attention and respect,
Ethereal, translucent light, any roaming spirit lifts,
Illuminating land of lighthouses, coast of craggy cliffs,
Treacherous, rocky graveyards to long wrecked ships,
Barrels of rum and sailors drowned, washed ashore…
Cold Celtic sea pounds sandy, surf-battered beaches,
Rolling waves – inevitable – powerful, break again and again…
Spewing white, foamy fingers as they meet rock and grain,
No land can defy its constant relentless erosion,
Every crash roars ‘brave me if you dare’!
Stunning sights around every curve, inlet and bay,
Quaint fishing harbours safely enclose painted boats,
Peeling, wooden hulls bobbing, heeling, always afloat
Gulls swoop and cry over glassy, glinting ripples
Delight in pasties, Cornish-cream teas and ice-cream.
For respite from epic, elemental coastal landscapes,
Seek out misty moors, carpeted with prickly heather,
Inviting inns provide shelter from inclement weather,
Discover the literary heritage of a proud pirate past,
It’s every hiker’s trail and a smuggler’s paradise.
Half ruined, silent chimneys protrude from green meadows
Home to birds, since their halcyon days of mining,
Rich seams of copper and tin, now empty lining
Deep shafts delve down from deserted engine houses
The wheals closed, bereft of investment and profit.
Windy lanes and high hedgerows separate patchwork fields,
Undulating hills adorned by herds of carefree cows,
Gnarled old trees hold secrets in their boughs,
Lost gardens, manicured lawns, flower filled biospheres,
Yet more views beckon to greedy irises…
Hidden horseshoe coves bask in sun and breeze,
Secret caves found, as gushing, tidal oceans bare,
Invigorate senses, inhale pure, salt infused air,
Tingling droplets moisten parched, urban skin
Sweet scent of the sea fills burgeoning lungs.
Lofty, stone towers and Church spires are dwarfed,
By tall wind turbines, with sharp white blades,
Solar panels reflect and fill farmers’ glades,
Ancient, rooted, mossy riverbanks trickle by unhindered,
Revel in her diversity and ever present views.
Irreverent skies change like chameleons, clear one moment,
Foreboding the next; clouds morphing into gangsters,
Cotton white puffs swell into angry grey monsters
Filling your vision as they darken and loom,
Ready to suddenly release their vast, watery weight.
Land before time; shaped by eons of cosmic forces.
Iconic, coastal scenery captures hearts and imagination,
Last bastion of English Riviera, gritty, island nation,
Before I depart, Cornwall bestows her treasure:
A lasting impression on my cornea…