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…