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This poem is taken from PN Review 31, Volume 9 Number 5, May - June 1983.

Poems Clive Wilmer

Samphire and mare's tail and the salt marsh.

Nothing appears to have movement here
but the birds-it is where the white tern
pivots his swift course and on the tideline
dunlin and sandpiper dibble.
at low tide, it's as if the brown sea
clogged in the mudflats. A spar,
tall and near the vertical, splits the view.

And on the horizon a grass-thatched sand-dune
looms like a northern fell. It
lays on the water's stillness precisely
its own stillness.


A kingfisher darting the green scum on a pool

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