I’m on holiday with my family in Seaton, Devon. Today we sat on the beach and looked at the sea. I threw some pebbles. This evening, I wrote the poem that follows.
Above the curve of the horizon,
a blue sky with Simpsons clouds
a desert of water
a few buoys, cactus-like
There can’t be anything beneath that granite mirage
Steep pebble beach, figures,
frozen in attitudes of quiet spectatorship,
eyes directed at the shifting thing
we confidently label: “the sea”
A thin arm repeating a gesture,
hailing or cursing the sea
A pebble over the water,
A further element to the scene:
held in place
by an invisible wire
or wing and wind
who can tell?
Sounds too, looped:
cries of seagulls, distant voices,
the rasping of water sucked back over shingle
the bark of a dog
Again, that gesture,
aggrieved, excited, condemning, celebrating
and a pebble falling
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A memory I share ))
Vivid and true.