The old cemetery

A rusty gate
from the sandy dunes
A wall of stone
on all four sides

A rock-strewn hillside
inside
The sea incessantly
speaks from the shore

Strange
no rocks
outside the walls
just flower-clad sands

Rolling away
in every direction
down to the ocean
their ancient roadway

Living from the bounty
of the ever-present sea
it would exact its price
giving change - wreckage on the shore

Living in penury
but happily
demure hamlets
strung out to the north

Poor ground prompted
a move inland for summer
gathering fuel
before the storms came

Unknown were the riches
in money and goods
Riches in happiness and
the strength of kinship

Only a rock
remains within walls
a mark of ending
to remember their days

Nine thousand you'll find
on that rock-strewn hillside
No carved tombstone
Just a rock

The far north

Looking out to sea, distant mountains looming
Rolling in from far away, long dark swells
Born of distant winds and currents
Immutable yet ever changing

A demure chapel, long since out of use
A place of devotion, for those no longer there
Once in summer, they would flock there
With their flock of beasts to tend

Rows of lowly houses strung out side by side
Strips of narrow land beyond
Stretching for a mile towards the shore
Where all ends on a precipitate cliff

Sand swirls on the currents
whether in the air or in the sea
Changing coastlines that impercetably crumble
Only the brick tower remains, a tall beacon

The ancient rocks, dating back to earth's beginning
Root the soil, thin and meagre
Where little grows, worthy of mention
Only a sea of flowers, next to the ever-moving sea

Journey's end's beyond the gate
A rock is all that will remain
As tangible reminder of
Those whose footsteps have long faded