a tenth poem...'summer'

Standing at the kitchen window

You could see the sea

And the clouds

And the space between the sea and the clouds.

The sea: green, and calm.

The clouds: white as vanilla whip.

The space between punctuated by white and brown sails.

You would run up from the beach

Across the garden and into the house,

With your wet towel around your waist,

Sand in your hair,

Your eyes like rock pools –

Part mist, part mica.

That was our summer.

Stretched over three months

 And long evenings spent on the rickety front porch,

Watching the lighthouse

Blinking in the blue velvet night,

Both listening to the waves rolling up and down the beach,

With a bellyful of wine

And a head full of it too.