The Pinnacle Well
We drive the coast from Fanore –
The road falls to a snarling sea,
Then edges tight on grassy slope.
Grass speckled with boulder and stone,
Rising to scree and broad-shouldered cliff.
A fair stretch and a decent walk:
Perfect for hiding Easter eggs.
Tokens hidden in nook and cranny.
For searching eye and quicker hand.
Children rush to un-riddle clues:
Scooting, scampering, scrambling.
Eager to fill mouth and pocket
With chocolate swag.
Until,
Laughing at the sky,
We head home –
Belonging to ourselves and this.