out

out
through the gaps
that rattle and trap
westerly sea breezes
between grey slate tiles
and wooden slats
the seahorses race
over green rolling hills
and with them
the shanty sighs of fishermen
their black notes hung
on cormorant wings
borne aloft
on white beards of spray
the churning
yearning tides of time
keeping secrets hidden
like buried treasures
cannons and caskets
doubloons and bones
shipwrecked with all hands lost
as we all must surely
someday
succumb

The view from my window
St. Ives, Cornwall
Sunday 10th. February 2019

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11 thoughts on “out

    • Thanks for catching up with my latest scribblings Graham and leaving such lovely comments. St Ives is glorious – lots of art, food, good light, fresh air, sea views, walks, inspiration and noisy seagulls. Despite a very blustery start the weather is being kind and the town is not full of the tourists that come in the summer. And there are turnstones and starlings wandering the streets by the harbour. And in the distance, viewed from the top floor window of our rental cottage, the lighthouse that inspired Virginia Woolf’s novel. Top town!

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