Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Stuart Rawlinson #40 - The Last View of Sea

there was a prize
for whoever saw it first
a dense blue sliver
between two low hills
at sea level, the water
chopped and fizzed
waves unable to hold
together under the
moon's duress. eyes
squinted in a golden
glare of not-quite-real
sand. hair matted
in the salty air
backs turned, towels
shaken, the wide open
expanse narrowed
like clock hands
reaching for noon


  1. every stone
    I see in this arctic grey lapping
    suspected for a whale

  2. Beautiful. Sad.
    Composing again?

  3. Those last three lines - just wonderful! Loved all of it.


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.