by Rosie Johnston
Sapphires in a hurry-flutter:
two dozen starlings
rush to Sheppey.
Seaweed garlands roll on the high
moon’s tangle of jet and jade.
The sea cradles me; my
I roll and kick like a baby.
Ripples brush your naked shoulder,
a sparrow’s whisper.
My skin, dulled under hospital lights,
in blustery sunshine.
Twilight wraps blankets of
around this evening’s shoulders.
Sky is honeyed mango slivers,
with pomegranate seeds.
Laughter waltzes with garlic prawns,
jives with olives,
pirouettes with wine.
Between the bowls and candlelight
of perfect contentment.
Low tide takes its muted leave –
marooned while oystercatchers play.
Whitstable, harbour of tangible
peace glides into dock.
Where sea and sky merge in a
aligns the mind’s horizon.
This fresh day. Let’s shuck it
gusto pour between our fingers.
I read this in Harbour Books, Whitstable at our first Words on Waves event last month. It’s had such lovely feedback that it’s here for you to enjoy too.
We’re meeting again tonight at 6.45pm.