View through eleven windows of Darnet Fort
Beginning at the window left of the gang plank.
Tide arching in. Deep water channel. V for victory. Dot, dot,dot dash.
Normarsh. Two Brent geese flying past. Wren singing crystal bright from deep in the bramble.
Towards the saltings . Gulls rising, geese crying, Steve drawing.
A tangle of bramble. A slice of blue sky, cranes silenced, dipped in reverence towards the winds.
Kingsnorth, or what’s left of it. Scene of climate crusade. Gordon’s chimney now just a memory.
A tangle of bramble, a slice of blue sky, enough to make a pair of sailors trousers.
African women heading to market along our Medway shores.
Free the weed, shimmering mudflats, the winding channel heading to Hoo.
Hoo Fort, orange dredgers and urban sprawl.
The ladder to the roof. A field of valerian. Steve evicting caterpillars from his tent.
A notepad left behind. Pigeons singing Gregorian chants,a Capella style while oystercatchers cry protest into the winds.
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