The road to Smugglers’ beach
is long, through dry-cracked peat and
fields of grass now yellowing.
Emerging from the rocks and dunes,
eyes roaming over cliffs and sand,
it’s time to choose a place to be
to lose reality, find the beauty of the sea.
A glass jar filled with rockpool water,
cast off feather for a quill
grey scarred rock becomes an easel
pebbles keep the paper still.
Silver strands on peat and sand
transform sea edge to marble.
Waves rise and fall as brushstrokes
make the colours run and mingle.
Surf breaks; flecks of foam
Splash on waiting paper
Soft feather dipped in white
captures them for ever.