Musselwick Sands, yesterday afternoon.
August 19th 2023
Last night, a summer storm;
Come this morning, our village Atlantic loud
And, prouding bright in the returned sun across a was-blue sea rain-greened,
Waves of winter strength…
First seen resting: sitting and reading
But costumed, sea-prepared;
And very soon, because others were already in,
Down to the tideline.
Both in school black, sportily so: how well they ran,
Limbing such spring from the racing sand!
And straight into those rollers –
Not although they were rearing well, but because.
The relish, so evident, of these two
For a sea with power.
Reckless no, knowing to stay their depth;
But intent on wresting fun from every wave.
One board they shared, so fairly; and, each lightly built,
Either could on their own ride in almost as well
Seethe-immersed, while her sibling sledded shorewards
Puffball buoyant, joy-grinned to the sometimes squeak.
Played on in the surf, lion cub rough-gamed with it,
Ever keeping watch for each other
In this saltemerald world
Where they must often duck below.
For that youthful water had its shining claws out:
Keen on giving bubbly cuffings,
Slapcious reprimands,
Always up for briny tussle.
How those darkshine two stayed in,
Tall colt fearless of the roarness!
Only rushing out to return, for that surf this afternoon
Was everything to them.
How beautiful to see it: water play, all-minded
In the Bride’s tide’s crashious advance.
Out, sprint-spraying, for freshing drinks;
Back for more tumbling wrestles with that stroil of elements.
So loud, my silent wish that this time of being wild water creatures
Neither ever forgets, nor their sea-togetherness.
Where will such memories take them – ?
To long happiness, I hope; and sea-love all their bright eyed lives.
© Christopher Jessop 2023
