(Mudstone
Cove, Devon)
The mud is firm today,
puddles are memories;
but still the squall surprises.
Breakers roll in,
as they have for ever,
chased by a north-east wind.
Almost in slow motion,
they succumb to spray.
That yacht in the bay
courts disaster,
hanging on every wave.
Glimpses like photographs:
moments you strive to keep
even if feet know different,
turning for home,
just as the shutter clicks.
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