In the lazy dazzle
of a hazy autumnal sun,
I watch the sea leap and dance,
the waves a turbulent mass
of energy unleashed.
A jet skier climbs and cuts a swathe
Through the terre verte of this playground’s mighty swell.
All that‘s left of the lone windsurfer
glimpsed far out to sea earlier
is the Milk Tray Man sloshing with seal-like
wetsuit there across the car park –
the wind hastening him to his car.
A few bedraggled and windswept dog-walkers
look, with me, seawards across the sands.
Sands which are now bereft
of their tourist adornments.
I prefer them just plainly
beautiful.