The rounded swell of downland
Beguiles the eye with softness,
Born of a thousand tiny tragedies
Long in the making.
The valleys fall away
Scarps of sudden abandonment
A green foreshore against wooded cliffs
Stretching measureless to the sea.
Love has that gentle softness
Slow growing, forgiving, seamless.
Shaped by storms; enduring,
Like breeze swayed birches
Unseen unsilvered till maturity
Secure within an untold past.