Poetry (words)

These waters

In the cove, rock pools reflect fast moving skies until the rising tide blankets their light. Moods are fleeting here, like a storyteller’s thoughts they fade with each chapter of the day. Slow streams of visitors pass gleeful eyes as low tide exposes golden sand and tiny explorers find joy in disappearing footprints at the waters edge.

Come sunset the peace returns, the downtrodden heather and clover shake off that weight. This feeling is a feeling shared throughout the seasons here. The day tripper’s scars remain, but with their departure freedom reigns again.

On warmer days this scene is replayed and the path to the cove fills with noise, chatter and baggage. They come, sunglasses so big like a swarm of multicoloured flies to stand and complain of no signals as another selfie is queued in a back catalogue of repetitive poses. The beauty is lost on them.

To know these waters is a blessing, I feel the strength of the tide at the edge of winter and awe washes over me…..


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