The waves that crack …

The waves that crack on Madoc’s Haven
and crumble and hiss away
travel on too through the land unbroken—
a subsonic boom that echoes and splays
out in ripples, wave after wave.

Gardeners in Kent and Northumberland
lift a forkful of earth, hear the metal ring
with that dull rhythm. Understand.
See sun-fattened fruit in their orchards pulse and sing.
We may hear it again in the grave.

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