Earth is tawny
corduroy tonight, and burnt
blood clods. Charolais cows, peach
white going on amber, slant their paintbrush lashes
at the limestone cliffs.
Sunset’s gold-spill gets me every time.
Come on, I’ll take your hand, let’s run like oyster-catchers
along the line between water and earth, make the
biggest splashes in the tiniest waves, relish
edges between land and
sea and us and air.
I breathe. Expand again, at last, to my full size. I’m
tallest in bare feet, on sea-rolled shingle, back
heavy in my heels, cupping the weight of
whelk shells in my pockets.
Constant in it all, so
many years, the