PLASH and fall, an endless rhythm of trickle and hiss, tumble and crest. Sucking, spitting, suddenly spewing.
The crescent moon hangs high. Gulls arc and mew. Seawater gurgles and pops, hurling little hopes at dry land.
Rocks hum, and glow, and shimmer.
Tangles of green and orange rope curl in crevasses. Driftwood juts at right angles. Whaleback boulders stream with weeds.
The glare’s bouncing off every wavelet. Far away, clouds are hemmed with pink.
Surf clamours at feet of stone. Barnacles cling on, grimly.
The sea gulps back its saltiness. Foaming spume leaves little nibbling kisses all along the beach.
Seaweed writhes with driftwood on pebbles. Paw prints nuzzle tawny sand.
Primrose yellow, salmon tinged, the sun streaks across the sky.
Above the sea, a wide mouth slowly opens. For five minutes, it breathes a raging ball of fire, casting a rippling red path to my feet.
Then the mouth slowly closes. Indigo’s shot with fire. Purple deepens to navy. Dimmer, glooming. Houses on the hill wink lamplight. Good night.