Somewhere beneath that listening ridge
the winds are gossiping again, in tongues
beyond the most vague and coarse translation.
A breezy sonic-catalogue of air let loose,
wheezes up behind walkers staggering up
the slopes, outroaring the M5 at every step
Until the top with banks now bare again,
fit for prehistoric sentries to cast their eyes
across the stretching flats, Land Yeo wriggling
Off towards the estuary’s greyed-out islands,
Wales industrious over fast brown waves,
not quite yet the sea, still almost as strange.
It is a chafing edge of sorts, rabbits racing
over grass towards the woods, not waiting
to witness other beings cloud over the horizon.
Matt Gilbert is a freelance copywriter and blogger at richlyevocative.net. Originally from Bristol, he currently gets his fill of urban hills in south east London. He’s had poems published by Anthropocene, Black Bough and Green Ink, amongst others. Twitter @richlyevocative