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This poem is taken from PN Review 173, Volume 33 Number 3, January - February 2007.

The Sea, The Sea Andrew McNeillie

for Alan Riach and Patrick Crotty

The coast whirls seabirds round
its head, and the tide's scourge
chastens all before it to white sand.
Ink-wash blows away by the page.
There's no such thing as waste in nature
unless man-made.
Everywhere, wave and cloud,
cacophony of sight and sound.
But religion here being made by man
long since sinned itself into oblivion.
A tilted cross like an old minute-hand,
indicates the hour has gone when
upright folk leant on the wind
to wind up here to praise the lord.

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