Eyes ruffled and frowning
Into such a lambasting bluff,
Hurled, whining into the valley’s curve
By a mardy, disagreeable squall;
Unwilling to be photographed,
As gingerly I stepped upon hard sand’s slick film
Of shimmering brine.
And then, as if stir-fried,
The gale sizzled surf through rivulets, along grooves,
Towards my damp boots, snapping with verve:
But I snapped too, holding on to my nerve…
Strange, sizzling strips of water attacked me on Mawgan Porth beach...