Headland

The traveling sky goes landward, the blind mass

Of headland thrusts a black snout in the sea.

The indifferent violence of the working water,

The winter southwind turning the gulls, stirring

The shell-fed headland grass-these passionless

Elements feed passion and make our lives-

The lashed shelves, the basalt in the foam,

The sea-rocks dolphin-dark the green wave frays.