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Zig-Zag Sunday

By Old Park House where centuries

 Have passed the white-washed wall

A carven post and verdant paths echo the Dial Hill call

From flower-strewn lofty vantage point

 Above the slumbering bay

The dawn-eyed watcher scans the hills and fondly greets the day

Down the Zig-Zag to the town,

Lit by the brightening sun

The early walker strides along with nature linked as one

No company but slug and snail,

No sounds but wind and bird

A Sunday symphony of life not by the sleepers heard

He savours each new vista

As his route it gently drops

To Hill Road's regal line-up of shuttered silent shops

Past mansions bathed in sunlight

Bellevue and Elton Roads

Past banks and lovers' letters waiting sorting by their codes

And then the promenade along

The sea-defending wall

In sight of the Victorian pier that waits the steamer's call

Past trees bent back by Welsh-sent winds

And bandstand locked in time

Past white gulls foraging in mud, past bins upturned by crime

The flags of nations catch the breeze

Alongside Salthouse Fields

Where giddy rollercoaster rides sit covered and concealed

Across train tracks and waiting swings

From out the trees there swells

To call the faithful to their prayers, a summoning of bells

And then the climb up Poets' Walk

Where others strolled before

To look upon the waters deep where galleons ply no more

He turns and sees old Clevedon

Set proudly on display

Beneath the hill where he began his happy Zig-Zag way.

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