And I Heard Again Those Voices

And I heard again those voices, Buoyed upon a murmuring wind, And oyster-catchers with their Distinctive, shrill-piping call; The plaintive cries of floating Curlews, Carrying on that wind, As spilt sunset Settled over the ruby-red, wine-coloured Moor. Blazing purple heathers -- Distant bellows from rutting stags -- The whirling grouse... And close by, opposite my quiet little Door, Seldom seen otters, whistling when Calling their playful mates, Splashed and sported in shallow runs And shadowy pools:- Opaque, amber waters, swathed In brilliant starlight, Reflecting intensity displayed overhead; Night's rich velvet skies encrusted in Sparkling jewels. Yes, as darkness begins to fall, With drowsy eyes half-shut... Again, I see and hear it all. For it is certain, I have now become Familiar with what is truly meant... To have to endure an ever waking Discontent.