Footsteps
Heavy from rain
Light from the parting fog —
To a beach in winter
I am an imaginary visitor today
Seashells and pebbles crunch underfoot
Waves wash the shoreline
They make a rolling sound
They hiss, they 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 beach-rock
The waves break with force
I keep going
