Terns

Crunching east on stony beach

With the westerly

Encouraging me to move along

With uncalled for shoves to my spine

Like an impatient copper

Clearing an unruly popular terrace

Causing me to stumble

As I stagger on loose pebbles

Waves tumble in

Wash through shingle

The rage of sea repressed

By this burly bully at our backs

My lips licked by briny spray

Sunglasses spotted with tear-salt smears

Ears wind-burnt

The white noise of breaking horses

Fills the air, all but deafens

Except

Clear and shrill like blue-lighting sirens

Heading into battle

Against the insistent blows

With scratchy screeches

Wings like knives

Cutting through

Slicing and dicing

Contradicting the force

They stick to their intended course

Zigger-zagger dancing

Toward the setting sun

.

CLP 23/05/2020