on this bracing December day
with clouds like Middle-Earth mountains.
Waves explode with futility
against immovable rocks
and I am exhausted after my stroll
to the weird, mysterious Culver Hole.
A stone structure is built into the cliff
with portals dating back many centuries.
Now it is low-tide, rumours abound
of smugglers alighting,
wild wind howling carrying the ghosts
of rugged men who came here long before
to this eerie part of the Gower shore.