Before you and behind you
The long Perspectives reach,
To vanish down the distance
In ribbed and shining beach
You seem to walk on water
When through the midday heat
Your spiralling reflection
Ripples beneath your feet
The boats upon their hawsers
Feel a receding tide
And towards the lunar summons
Shift knocking side by side
Locked in the sun’s surveillance
On acquiescent sand
You grip the shape of melting time
Like ice inside your hand.
Brian Fewster