CONEY BANKS OF CHATHAM
The faint yellow glow at the east of the valley
changes to an orange hue,
as night time transforms, at the break of day,
it enhances Chatham’s unsung view.
From Waterworks Hill, beyond Fitness First,
across the Pitch and Putt course, to the Coney Banks,
on the horizon, the lines of silhouetted firs,
like charcoal drawings, on parade, in ranks.
Once this glimpse of morning glory
has passed, and the day’s begun,
into focus will emerge the rows of houses,
windows reflecting the rising sun.
Tranquil, until the onslaught of traffic
breaks the stillness of this Kentish morn;
breathtaking, for a fragment of time,
as a brand new day is born.
UPDATE: I’ve since been told that this poem was written by local poet Jim Bell.