Thursday, 27 October 2011


At the top of my favourite
Lakeland mountain
I catch the sea
glinting distant – flat and grey.

Peering from
the summit cairn
a far skein of steel
glints, communicating.

Of course, it’s nuts
to think the sea could really

although, when close,
it never stops talking,
waving and rushing,

supporting and killing;
impeccable, unrelenting
salt. Different from sand,

electricity or breath:
impossible to own,
upping the ante

- like love.


  1. Beautiful write and yes indeed the sea does talk - oh how it beckoned me in as a child with its constant come to me, come to me as the waves rushed in and idled against the shore.

    I am a follower I know - but have come here again by a random visit to Twitter - rarely visit Twitter as time waits for no man (or woman) and I use it as a (sometimes) pointer to my blog.

    Can't gove as mich time to my blog as I would like to too - so do not visit the dashboard/interface daily - so nudge me now and again if you wish.

    You have a son to be proud of and equally your son has a dad to be proud of.

    Anna :o]

  2. Lovely poem. The sea never ceases to communicate with is part of us. Lola