gulls hang languid in the air
muttering their sorrows
and laments for the lost
their feathers flick as they
dip and drift in answer
to the vagaries of the wind

and marram tufts shudder
with each waft of warmth
needle threads of stitch
root meandering sand
with a sea of inward smiles
into these transient hills

as our innocent echoes spill
as sweetly tumbled weeds
down these golden banks
and up again to stand
panting proud and free
king of our beautied blithe shore

2 thoughts on “dune

  1. Tracy Paterson February 15, 2017 / 9:21 am

    Its like I’m there with you and Fred.


  2. Paul Paterson February 15, 2017 / 11:36 am

    saw Fred this afternoon on the cliffs. He says hi!


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