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To Watergate Bay

June 6, 2016

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A smooth cruise from E.U. referendum chat
to this white Cornish beach – sandcastle flats
enticing eyes to turquoise. As warm, as fresh

as an English summer can be – and a cool leap
from 60s holiday weeks, sheltering from bracing
breezes with not a hint of latte, nor artisan gin.

These sands, so clean and wide that the crump
of surf is a distant drumbeat – seen, not heard –
is felt like a distant pulse from another life.

As the white ribbon unfurls, boards and surfers pop
like fresh toast – upright elation, swift, brief,
then return. It’s a long haul for surfers – but great

for Pecs and red carpet stunts. On this shore, Labs
race like hounds, chasing invisible bliss, out-running
slow days by the fire, and toddlers zig-zagging after

beach balls. There’s thunder on the horizon, but here
and now – enough fizz and clotted cream to dream on.

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4 Comments
  1. fiona permalink

    U put me there, Becky! Lovely images &,sounds x

  2. For now, yes. And sometimes it takes a beach to defy the times. Loved that crump of surf, crisp as a cucumber sandwich.

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