NATURE'S PENDLETON.

The cliffs were quiet, 

Common Gulls at eye level.

The afternoon light contrasted the primary colors, 

Colors only meant to be captured in great paintings or film. 

Our cameras ate rolls of film, 

like the irish guzzled stew and rolls.

Every 30 minutes, one of us a took a knee to pocket a canisters containing clips of colors, we would only hope to later posses photographs of.  

  
Tall beds of soft, moss-like grass covered the 
eroded shale & sandstone with colors, dubbed as Nature's Pendleton.  
--
I watched their bodies lean just far enough over the edge to make any passer-by gasp in fear..imaginations wandering to premontions of sudden death. 

Enduringly observing the women I walked alongside, 
carelessly doze off in scurvy grass while picking the petals off Sheeps Bit. 

The sun eventually decided to nod off with each of them on the cliffside, but their eyes had now seen a light too great to ever let leave... 

They ran as fast as they could to the very end, as if they would never see the sun again, as if it would never awake & the moon would hold the colors captive forever.   

 Cliffs Of Moher, Ireland