Sunday, 8 February 2009

Scree screen

The gull circles again, to tilt and glide above the blast of  grey green sea. Behind the high wall, on the scree screen of shifting stones, a dark beached star lies in the brittle white of sudden sun. 

Black coat and jeans. Hat and gloves. A dark orange scarf whose fringes brush against cheeks. Two pairs of socks beneath the favourite old walking boots that can't be worn in the rain anymore. Enough heat to lie still for half an hour. Wishing the grill was a little hotter.