Low tide, extending waste between soft waves,
tilting downward slightly towards The Gugh.
The bar south coast is more or less regular,
though partly a tangling of seaweed. Wobbly pen.
The north coast is concave. It always is.
Hollow demarked by large dull blocky dry
boulders at the west tumbled on each other
in a twining of such profuse dark green
it could be seen as black, growing, cluttered
by medium-sized rounded building material,
most of it grey, some of it reddish-brown;
and then a half-moon of rounds, red-golden,
pushed eastward, which reaches almost the high point,
where it touches an asymmetrical
path of charcoal well-smudged; and westward,
an unbalanced off-island beach, same tone,
nudges it with multiple roundness;
skirting both, on the southern sandy slope,
tyre tracks; and then at the south eastern
corner more parched spheres, many, descend
almost to the sea’s underarm forest.
Further west, a little over half way
across the bar, a single half-oval globularity
encumbers the true edge, offshore algae
trembling on gentle tide.
Most of the west
is free of stone today; across the broad
otherwise empty flat sands, Rorschach of weed,
a flag, blown down into shreds by northerlies.
A tractor, pulls with a trailer full of wood
over what can be seen with slow competence.
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UNFRAMED GRAPHICS by Lawrence Upton
42 pages; A5 paperback; colour cover
Writers Forum 978 1 84254 277 4
wfuk.org.uk/blog
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