Dungeness

Flat as Holland
open, sparse
bedecked with black shacks
and bizarre beautiful
structures of decay
loosely scattered.

Sky gapes wide
as an upward canyon
displaying what weatherly gifts
we might receive
for the whole night ahead
from the glorious galleons
of clouds
in hues of blues and greys
tumbling the waves
of the oncoming winds

The path of raised up wood
Edged for a mile each way
with sea cabbages
furled green, crinkly leaves
and shoots of yellow flowers
The path leads us to an abrupt end
before the shore of pebbles
and sporting fishermans' rods
Poised and waiting for the
water creatures' bite

Lighthouses two,
one old, one new
stand proud from the
stoney pan of ground
giving mere suggestion
to the nearby heights
of a formidable force looming

In pale greens and inconspicuous creams
politely present
on the edge of England's edge
A pantheon of power
Distant, silent
and ominously serene to behold.
Telling nothing of the latent potential
for disaster that sleeps within
Its placid walls

When they chose the setting
for nuclear power
station B
did they realise the
glaring contradiciton?
Nature's peaceful serenity now
scarred with industry's trechery

And yet I cannot help but see
the sheer tragic beauty
in all that is
Dungeness