I’m as deaf as the Iron Men I watch far from the squall,

but they see so much more than I do, even through

the gloom and dark of both ends of the day.

That raven black sky is pitted with the most beautiful

fire stained red and blistering orange,

as if a far off volcano had burst into life

and sending its majestic deadly plumage as far as the Crosby coast-line

High above the Iron Men seagulls battle bravely,

their squawking, bickering, distasteful arguing is unheard