I went to the Sea today,
hunting stones at Carrick bay.
Grass blurs to rock, water waiting,
for the steady pull
of tide and time.

No child with me,
to see the world in wonders way.
To dream that magic here holds sway.
Rocks might rear into the sky,
gulls great dragons passing high.

Pools, lying still, amongst the wrack,
whisper "enter, no glance back".
Mysteries of ancient deep,
in the soothing dark they keep.

Drink the water, tasting warm,
slip into another realm,
playful fishes open- eyed,
gape and gossip as I glide.

A pocket of stones,
a pocket of shell,
thank you Carrick.
You'll do me well.