Just remembered this bit of a poem I wrote when I was 21 about the little stretch of road around the corner from the Saints Bay Hotel where I was staying last week. Still feel the same all these years later.

A return
Near Les Fougères D’Icârt

Raucous in the little lanes
A drunken sea-wind
Blew me here
To listen and belong again
To a soft rhetoric
Catching through the ferns
Where the wind will bind
My burning hand
To pine bark
- It clings like ivy -
To feel the wind
Touching its current
To feel the wind
Breathing through the tree
Teased by its needles
Into the softest music
- The song I’ve been silent for -
Eased by the wind
Into the slightest dance
The shudder
Of root into rock
That barely trembles
The message of the wind
Down to the wild widow sea.