Here I see a Scilly beach in a glass door knob:
turquoise and off white.
Like the old boat hauled up the shore
and the sub-tropical sea and sand.
Feet buried against scorching sun,
soles scratching on grit,
then crunching over broken shells
to cool off in clear water.
Two black-backed gulls, alarmingly big and bold,
chatter appreciatively as they share my granary roll
fresh from the island’s bakery,
but the tomatoes and peanut butter are all mine!
Turquoise fades to grey
and too hot to too cold
as clouds roll in and snuff the sun.
It’s time to leave both beach and island…
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