Sunday, August 9, 2009

A beach by any other name

My beach isn't bright yellow sand and incandescent blue skies.
It's not stinging sunburn.
It's not frolicking in the waves wearing skimpy lycra.
It's not beach cricket, and it's certainly not sun baking.
It's not warm, not embracing, not relaxing.

My beach is dark, and grey, and difficult.
It's tumultuous, and aloof, and always windy.
It's people wearing long coats as they walk their dogs.
It's driftwood, and lone surfers perched on their surfboards far from shore.
It's a foggy horizon, a bleak shore line, and sand not marked by any other footprint.

It's my beach, and it's my home.


What I'm reading: The Memory Room by Christopher Koch
What I'm listening to: Day trotter session - Whitely


Natalie August 9, 2009 at 9:07 PM  

Beautiful photo, beautiful poem.

Renee Bell August 9, 2009 at 9:45 PM  

awesome t-shirt :-)

Gemma Higgins-Sears August 10, 2009 at 9:53 AM  

but it's YOUR beach.. therefore it's beautiful. Great image.. you can feel the weather by looking at it!

Lara August 10, 2009 at 6:07 PM  

Agghh Meags he's rapidly turning into a real sized boy. I must come visit you and your boy and your beach soon. Actually how about next week? I've got some days off. I'll give you a tinkle on the telepone this week to plan.

Bianca August 11, 2009 at 8:20 AM  

Brilliant! I can feel the cold wind and smell the ocean. Your writing is beautiful, as is your photography. Miss ya!!


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