A tang of magic lingers
still around this deep, clear pool
cleft into sea cave’s base-rock,
for those who seek its power.
Dry grasses sway far above
on sandy summer headland,
clinging to crumbling cliff’s edge
where crickets sing, unaware.
The traveller feels the breath
of white horses, ruffled through
a tangle of mermaid’s hair
seaweed, washed up on the shore.
Street-smart, he knows the secrets
of water, how nature’s breeze
brings clouds, weaves moisture, glinting
precious through rock to pool’s source.
Not dreamer or believer,
still he makes his wish, where once
pilgrims, lovers, smugglers, knaves
spelt out their heart’s desires.
Later, when troubles and city clouds
gather, he will look up and,
like the believers of old,
catch a glimpse of bright silver in both.