Whitecliff in April

Breeze-blown clouds
Scud across the blue sky.
The view to Corfe crisp, clean,
Scoured by successive showers.

Bright white blossom
Adorns the black thorns.
Catkins dance
At the tips of leafless twigs.

Gulls, oyster-catchers
Wade in wind-washed wavelets.
Woolly-hatted walkers
Warmly wrapped in coat and gloves.

Then, all scurry for cover
As the next mighty shower cloud
Storms in from the sea
To lash the land with April rain, again.