In which the fish is swimming in spring

It is late. Not too late, but the sun is out of bed, and so am I,




Perhaps one might like to accompany the fish, on her sea-ritual this spring day.





It is bright and colourful, the flowers bloom from the salty headland, like a field of stars, not timid and soft, mind.
Brave flowers, which turn their faces to the horizon and drink in this incredible light until they shine with it,







In showers of gold and silver.




Perhaps one might to look along this stretch of sand on this spring day?




Where the girls are going dancing in the sea,



where the cliff rises solemn, and blue wrens weave the heath with the scribbling of their song.




let's go out now. I see the flags are going up, but i don't know these lifegaurds,
they are new.
let's be gone now, slipping under this wave, all fishiness called forth in the green.




out out out.
till there is nothing but us,
and the sky
and the cliff looking on,
of course.






all things forgotten, the time of day just bright enough to send
all pale eyed predators home to their lair
deep below. It's just
us out here, and the sound of the ocean breathing, listen.
If your heart is hurting
sometimes this sound will hurt it more,
sometimes not.

Lets head back to shore: dig deep through this part, the sea might want us longer. Be firm. We cannot stay forever.



No matter how much the sea might wish it.