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
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.