A hanging gannet eyes-up breakfast,
sunshine strains in a bruised blue sky.
Dirty waves stumble, nudging each other
in an empty game of rough and tumble.
The rock pools are derelict.
No more eels to expose in a stone-flip,
no waving anemones that turn
to pulp-buttons at a poke.
Precious stones of rock pool childhood,
dulled by time, engraved with memories.
Sulking clouds separate;
the sun swaggers on
warming cockles and mussels,
dribbling slithers of light.
Seagulls and children squeal their appreciation,
all is a-flutter, bunting high-fives the wind,
tiny leaves tremble on manicured hedges,
delphiniums take a bow, encouraged by sea breeze.
On the whitewashed swimming baths
a flag strains on its pole.
It bulges with newness
possibility.