Three Oystercatchers In A Mist Opportunity…
Made one almost close one’s ears
With clutching, clinging hands
For protection and the prevention
Of seeping into and infiltrating one’s consciousness;
But then one looked up
And one’s incomprehensible fears,
With birds’ wrenching, winging flight,
Found redemption and the resurrection
Of gripping onto and re-establishing one’s assertiveness…
|Pleased to leave the sea? Nah...|
Horrendous mist as I walked to the sea, where I was the only surfer to enter. Generally, at Mawgan Porth, when I enter the waves, an Oystercatcher flies above me, across the bay but this time, there were three.
A Lifeguard then closed the beach to bathers and surfers.