The closest to contentment
is when the the waves
push the pebbles ashore;
it’s all in the aftersound.
Soberly a seagul swoops
and time stands still,
I’m not a cautious fish,
but it’s all in the moment.
Rockpools are drawn
towards the sea
as tidal torrents turn,
multicoloured starfish shine
an enclosed universe;
it’s all to be discovered.
This, the sheltered cove,
lasting beach before I’m grown,
before I wonder
where wonder went;
one impression of footprints
walked over each other,
again and again to be.
