Leaving Whitby Abbey the old cross is prominent:
The cross still stands,
On the Abbey plain,
Above the waking town,
Beside the ancient way:
The cross still stands.
The path hugs the coast most of the Way:
The way
Between the barley and the sea
A well trodden path.
Below a wrecked ship
Tells one story of this coast
Whilst along the cliff posts
Bouquets of withered flowers,
Their plastic shrouds
Rattling in the wind, tell others.
In the distance a train whistle
Breaks the silence but not the step.
New treasures seen on the way today:
Devil's bit scabious; darker and more rounded than the field scabious seen on the moorland sections;
Butterflies: peacock, small tortoiseshell some sort of fritillary and three painted ladies near Gnipe Howe;
Finally a pied wagtail bobbing along the path as I came into Robin Hood's Bay for lunch.
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