dVerse Poets Pub

Halfway between Charmouth and Lyme Regis
the tumbled rocks
from the crumbling cliffs above
bring to a close the beach
that you follow
eyes down searching
from Charmouth
they mark the point beyond which
you will be cut off by a rising tide
and face a choice between
pressing on to Lyme Regis
or struggling back over the hump
of sticky Liassic blue-grey clay
and braving falling rocks
to regain the beach.

Though we did not know it as such
back then
this is the so-called Jurassic Coast
one of them at least
because the rocks curve up
through the country
like a spine with scoliosis
to emerge again in Yorkshire
with its counterclaim to
tourists seeking fossils
and imagining a dinosaur-infested past.

But Charmouth was made famous for fossils
by Mary Anning, a glorious amateur
who walked this beach every day
especially after winter storms
threw down hidden treasures
from the cliffs. Mary found
the first complete Ichthyosaur
and too, found fame
clawing it from begrudging
academics of the day.

But back to the rocks
midway along the route
from tiny Charmouth
to bustling Lyme Regis
once graced by royalty.
These rocks entrap in sheltered pockets
miraculous casts of eons dead shells
the gold of iron pyrites
fools gold gleaming
in the dross of sand
and tiny pebbles

Find them if you can
before the next storm
crashes into the rocks
and sweeps the treasure
out to sea.

It was my mother
on childhood holidays
eschewing the search for
larger, showier fossils
despite the joy of splitting rocks
thwacking them just so
with her specially purchased
geologist’s hammer
she settled down
to search among the rocks
and finding the tiny, perfect
overlooked treasures.

The last time I went there
seeking out this secret trove
hoping against hope
that I remembered still
where X marked the spot
this secret trove
which most people pass by
in their search for bigger things
I was summoned away for half-an-hour
whilst a scene for “Ammonite”
about the life of Mary Anning
was filmed a few feet from
my treasure seeking
and when, months later
I watched the finished film
I recognised my absent self
just out of shot.

I have been on that beach
my whole life
just out of shot
in my mind’s eye
a treasured memory
of times past
fossilised in fools gold.

© Andrew Wilson, 2023