skirting

the wave breaks
coughs up kelp
splashes shingle up the beach
rolls stones over
brushes out sand
catches air in pockets
marks the tideline in thick foamy spume
leaves with a hiss
of bursting bubbles
slips back into itself
gathers in its pleats
to unfurl them again
backfilling our footprints
proving nothing
waits for us

~

CLP 11/10/2021

Night Words After The Diner

The whisky went straight to my legs

my eyes, my arms, my tongue

I was experiencing things differently

Felt Earth spinning off its axis

It became a place I did not know

Did I need more drinking practice?

~

n.b. Night photo was taken to capture the empty street scene, but it came out weird, with evidence of existence of the Yeti…alive and well in East Anglia. It is certainly cold enough in Norfolk for Yeti.

Pubs now open in England, outside drinking only. Short rhyme prompted by photo. No pubs were visited during the making of this moving picture.

n.n.b. Off-prompt NaPoWriMo 2021 Day Fifteen scribble.

~

CLP 15/04/2021

On the Edge

Out here

The East Anglian landscape is so flat

That the curvature of Earth is apparent

And so here is not so flat at all

A world of its own

Even the sea moves on a different level

From beyond the dykes and shingle banks

Winds from North and East hold sway

Mighty oaks are bent to their will

Brow beaten in perpetual homage to Njord

This vast, sparse expanse

Denuded of shape

A dinner plate piled high

With sky

.

n.b. We are not alone; it just feels like that sometimes.

n.n.b. Njord was the Norse god of wind and sea, (and wealth).