Weak, warning waves lap on the causeway,
Pulling me back to time and place and purpose.
Sounds from seals on the sands,
Regretful, rueful arias of past lives, eerily haunting.
Barn Owl on the wing, expect no sound here.
Lately, Little Egrets patrol the flats.
The smell of the sea
The strength of the wind
The weakness of promises
Gannets fly by in prehistoric formation
Never mindful of ship, or shore, or Saint.
A touch of rain on the face
A look of anger in the clouds
A jolt of anguish in the heart
Snow Bunting, no larger than resident sparrows,
Search for microscopic scraps on the shoreline.
Crunching boots on the shingle
Crashing breakers on the shore
Cringing memories of that moment and the day before
Another vehicle marooned by the tide
Another visitor to be taken aside
Another hopeful caught out by one who lied
The rhythm of walking
The subtlety of talking
The Roe Deer stalking
The warmth of the Cafe
The smell of the coffee
The taste of the crab
Copyright Ray Stearn 6th June 2019