From the crumbling cliffs at Fairlight
To St Mary’s spire at Rye
The Sussex tide sweeps eastward,
Beneath the windy sky.

And the sand and shingle mingle
Where old Tilling meets the sea
And the marsh sheep bleat in chorus
A muted harmony,
Whilst all around the grasses wave
With the rhythm of the tide
While the breakers drum a symphony
And the gentle breezes chide.

And above it all
The mournful seagulls cry,
Haunting and melancholy

Beneath the windy sky.

© Carol Prior 2011