09 November 2014


Heavy from rain,
Light from the parting fog-
To a beach of winter
I am an imaginary visitor today.
Seashells and pebbles crunch underfoot
Waves wash the shoreline
They make a rolling sound, almost in whisper.
Seagulls are early risers
They never tend to whisper.
I wear your old black coat
Zips in the front, a light patina from use
Perfumed with time, travel and wind,  
The scent of coffee also.
Farther down, the walk is difficult.
Boulders and beachrock,
The waves break with force-
I keep going.

(July 13, 2014)