10th October 2021
Last hour of ebb, in black cliff shadow
I wade stir-of-surf sands
To foot today’s only prints
Across the north reach of this beach.
Sea October-mild, I’m splash-careless
Puzzling my way, bar to bar
Around the pits and pools –
Bar to shifting bar, I should say,
For all beneath my stick-steadied progress,
As my passing eyes watch
Everscour seawash reshapes, rebuilds, removes…
And erodes, with much more patient smoothcarve,
The bay’s reefing bedrock.
I’m glad to sight no stoop-demanding plastic on this strand;
And, herealong alone, not for me
Any small-piece boulderscramble reaching:
Neither time nor risk are worth.
This morning’s beach, therefore,
A task-free musing place:
Nature’s crashery the perfect disperser
Of human mind-mush.
No swim, should you wonder,
Despite the solitude’s beckon,
Out of respect for rips:
For here even a mild swell can,
Beneath serene surfaces,
Silently engine Severn-strong flows.
© Christopher Jessop 2021
