Sunbathing

Bolted to rock, the salt-leached grey sea wall
holds up the promenade behind me,
defends the camping ground nearby. Rust beards
and runnels of black stain the wave-grained wood.
On a rise of sand, my body foregrounds
the scene of which it forms a minute part.
A glance beyond its bounds yields a rich arc:
jetty and bridge, cobra-head spit crowned with
scrub, a confetti of beachgoers —
then dunes, miles-long, sweeping round to the lighthouse;
a turquoise, many-veiled sea; and this headland,
now ochre, salmon-pink and bistre
with, at its base, fallen boulders from which
grey roots twist and dangle as if alive.