Algy was sitting on the rocks by the horseshoe bay, watching the clouds roll endlessly down the mountainside and into the calm, grey sea. A herd of cows had come down the slope to browse along the shoreline, as there was little grass on the hill. Although there was no surf, and it was probably less rugged than the scene the poet saw, it reminded Algy of a poem by Robinson Jeffers:

          The coast hills at Sovranes Creek;
          No trees, but dark scant pasture drawn thin
          Over rock shaped like flame;
          The old ocean at the land’s foot, the vast
          Gray extension beyond the long white violence;
          A herd of cows and the bull
          Far distant, hardly apparent up the dark slope;
          And the gray air haunted with hawks:
          This place is the noblest thing I have ever seen. No imaginable
          Human presence here could do anything
          But dilute the lonely self-watchful passion.

[Algy is quoting The Place for No Story by the 20th century American poet Robinson Jeffers.]

Note: Algy says please click on the image to blow it up to full size if you can’t find him at first 🙂

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