A Sunday Morning at Cooden Beach
Rolling waves crash towards the shore
Lowering their heads like charging bulls
Losing momentum with the drag of the shingle
They dissipate; falling back against the angle
Weakening their diminishing strength

On the pebbled shore, two siblings
Test their wits at the waterline
1 - 2- 3 turn and run; laughing, screaming
With scrabbling feet gaining little purchase
Against the ever shifting instability

The boy is good; but the girl is caught
The seas tendrils whip round her ankles
Rising, lassoing her shins, like a magic rope
And she cries to her parents 'I'm soaked'
Heading towards them, shaking her legs in turn

In gentle good humour, they laugh, and
With the recovery of youth she re-joins
Her brother - to continue to test and tease
The hungry sea; like the Gingerbread Man
'Catch me if you can - Catch me if you can'

The only other bystanders; husband and wife
Stand close, sharing tranquillity of thought
Just taking in the power and overall beauty
Of the scene - sweeping their eyes around
The contour of the far reaching shoreline...

Normans Bay, Pevensey Bay, Eastbourne and
The vertical eastern edge of Beachy Head
To their left, Bexhill is hidden, tucked back
By the lay of the land curling in; Hastings afar
The world beyond, now just a distant memory

They smile at the antics of the children
Perhaps remembering a distant past
Their own silence broken by screeching gulls
And the ever repetitive sound of the swishing sea
Breaking in a low rumble against the shingle

Caught on the wind, voices and car doors filter
From the hotel car park. The elderly couple turn
And retreat to the bar for morning coffee; with
The sea still visible via the large curved window
Its sound replaced by the general hub of conversation

Its loss did not perturb the woman
For she knew, whenever she needed to hear it
In whatever mood they were both in
The ever rolling continuum
Would always be in her head