Here is my day 18 poem for Paul Brookes’ challenge, inspired by John Law’s Barmston looking from Fraisethorpe and Kerfe Roig’s Distances. You can read all the contributions here. Except mine, which got lost again.
On the sands of childhood
On the sands of childhood, wild and windy,
skylarks singing above the dunes,
and the rolling waves on the chilly shore,
deep green and pungent with bladderwrack,
where the sun was fitful, breeze poked fingers
through the holes in woollens. We
followed the rills of running water
through the deserts, pebble-dashed
with fiery gems and empty shells.
We never saw the whales and seals
but they were there, just watching, free.
There are days, I wish I could reel in those nets.
