That stretch of coastline turns the weather over on its wave tongue

in less than a day. Licking a cold snap into the air, it hangs

on the suspended humidity.

 

Sunshine dubs this an enchanted place, little spiralling village

clinging to the cliffs like the underbelly of a mother.

Windows sparkle with cool spectrum colours,

the blue of the wide sky, green for the shifting seagrass.

Warmth melts pink ice cream down over soft gripped fingers,

a hand rests calm on the skin of my thigh.

 

When the crack comes;

those great waves that dash the pebbles from the beach,

hurl them screaming into the wind,

rain and foam flung through salt soaked air,

bleeding down collars to freeze the spine.

It takes so much from us

to grip our wrappings close,

hold our eyelids down against the hail

and pump our legs away to higher ground.

 

We cannot spare a finger ventured out

to check the other is still there

on that open path cut up through cliff face

walking the same direction in the storm.