Wet winter on a beach
everything is grey

sky and wet sand

decorates the feet
of seagulls
skylarking
hauling left-rights through the gusts

Seaweeds embellish the foam
Bobbing their heads
up now and again for rescue

Each rush of wind seals an escape from
sense and
silence

In the maelstrom
I merge into obscurity
The sounds of my weakness unclear

Smooth nothing
black and white
paradox

not dangerous
not visible
not cloud mist or tears


MChallis © 2015