headland bound

over the dawn primroses

the scent of gorse

 marram grass

when the wind screams

you bend

 poor old pigeon

the one with the deformed leg

just hobbling along

 a walking man

as small as the sea is large

stops to think that ...

 Fathers are the prophets of their pasts

 A Neanderthal child’s dancing feet leaves my fossilised brain a-washed with tears 

 the cat has taken umbrage 

 footfall footfall

the path articulates 

our meandering 

 it is held

breathless upon the water

this longing

 tell me how is

the change in a memory

remembered

 morning sunshine

a single thread of cobweb

glittering

 all transplanted

washing my dirty knees

after a short prayer