Shorn sheep warm themselves in the sun
shade under the crooked trees

a bathtub tilted to a trough
the dike ditch a ribbon of red algae

peeled signs on the border
water and land

the rippling nibbling on the slope
grass beds along the crest-path

I walk along the wide water
no screeching tyres here

sometimes on Sou'wester days
the seagulls and the wind

laundry flapping at the back
white as the sails in the lurid light

the sea level silvered by the sky
the horizon bent between the banks

the water arches over the green valley
swaying and waving seaweed nymphs

charm beneath the waves
treasures seemingly for the taking

golden yellow stones in the Shire Sea