Mark Goodwin
Budleigh Salterton
alone with early sun we sit
on a billion pebbles
no seagull screeches odd
swallows intricately rip
and re-order noise
a skylark enhances silence
sea unshrouds and shrouds
a damp dark band of sound
then they come feet clop
a dull ring of disturbed
smooth chunks
that have been rounded
by the wet rhythm’s rubbed sense
we sit on a billion pebbles feel
billions’ feet not far off
of all pebbles in all worlds
now fragments of crowd
strangers choose
pebbles next to us
we’re no longer alone
the crowd grows
pebbles around us makes
us a part
and sea’s sound blurs
as the rub
of flesh voices joins noises
Page(s) 82
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