Beach

Sharp winds as I hit the beach, the rain still
far off — a spray from towering cloud-surf.
I pass the co-ordinates of a gull, its head
a stone's throw from raised wing planted in sand.
A day of odysseys… With hauled water,
children build worlds between tents and tideline,
the youngest in bliss as waves lick and jump
like a playful dog. By the restaurant —
adventures in sipping and forking — a squad
of catamarans have blown in from Torquay,
the sailors jubilant, striding up the beach.
Under nib-scratched waves, a gold skin covers
ribs of sand. Dreambodies plumb water's weight,
store cold as quickness, heat as strength.