Strand

This must be the best time of year.

           The beach huts are all locked, the schools are back,

           A solitary walker with her dogs

Pads quietly along the water's edge.

The sky mocks at the date, its radiant blue

           Willing me to think it is July

           Rather than late September, for the sea

Is calm, almost to indolence, each wave

Hardly finding the energy to break

           And trickle over pebbles as it basks

          Soaking up the silence of the day

As it has done, since the world began.

Brian HIck autumn 2009

©copyright Sally HIck 7.9.22