Friday, 9 July 2021



I recently watched four people search Meadfoot Beach for something. They began in the water and as the tide went out continued on the shore line. I was sitting reading at the other end of the beach and I have no idea what they were looking for. Their actions did however, prompt this poem.


it is a lazy narrative to gift water agency

the depths did not desire that thin gold band

the sea did not take the ring of my mother

let me offer this instead

that I had decided on one final dip

as October ran towards winter

the intense cold triggered biological responses

blood retreated to maintain my core

capillaries contracted

and the ring always a loose fit

was gone before I knew it

so that when I searched

the view was murk and weed

my numb fingers read the rocks

sieved the sand

hunted for that familiar

the autumn tide was high and wild

and if I could have ladled it all away

spoon by spoonful I would

I waited it out

returned each day to search the empty beach

I still feel the loss

As I say I have no idea of the reason for their searching or if they were successful. I have even changed the season to suit my version. 

This was a poem that wrote itself in my head. Before I jotted it down on paper I had a good sense of its shape and although [so far] there have been six drafts, it has been mainly a case of making it flow.

I am not sure it is complete, but when am I ever?

Here's Pollyanna with a charming video [and a great song-the explosion of feathers- what a great line]. You can check out her albums here.

Until next time.

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