Monday, April 11, 2005

The Beach

every cast
this july evening
teams of black-barred
blue and silver
tug zigzags
through the shallows
skitter on shingle
gasping alien air

despatched – big-stoned
thuds to their glossy heads
a swift slaughter

dog fox comes down the cliff
stands expectant
sniffs the salted dusk
deserves sushi

we scramble back
up the strand
feet scrunching
deepsunk every stride
lamps of the night’s fishing fleet
nod a mile offshore

halcyon evenings
wind a whisper
sea flat as the sky
the beach yields its secrets
to lovers of the tides.

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