Tuesday, June 18, 2024

Poem for Monday and Rialto Beach

Rialto Beach 
By Tim Cresswell 

first     the carnage
silverwhite trees     wave-toppled and gale-gusted

strewn along the beach    sun bleached dinosaur bones
next     the balancing acts of stonestacks      a lone conifer

clings to invisibly thin soil    knots of bull-kelp
like spilled leviathan seed   fetid and fly-ridden    anemones in rock pools     

beckon me to finger their sticky tongues
a bald eagle circles    hounded by ravens

we keep on holding on      hoping for the best
settling     for something like circumstance

in the black basaltic sand     mingled with milk white
and amber agates     smooth ground sea glass jewels

amongst the fallen trunks      clunking chunks of rusted ship-iron
scattered fishing floats    a black plastic buoy

a walker     tells me of the wreck
the Chilean ship     the marker round the headland for the drowned

-------- 

My Monday was not exciting. Paul had a morning dentist appointment, so I sorted clothes while he was out -- after a year here, I have a much better idea of what needs to go to Goodwill vs what I wear -- and reassured the cats that they had not been abandoned and could let me make the bed. Then I did a bunch of computer work, and after lunch, we walked in the mist to the beach. 

Cheryl and I watched last night's excellent Interview with the Vampire together -- we both missed it watching Daniel Radcliffe win his Tony Award -- then I started watching the new season of Grantchester, where I will miss Will, but I thought I'd never stop missing Sidney, then forgot all about him. Rialto Beach in the evening, including me posing as son with kelp from 2005:

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2024-06-07 20.02.21

2024-06-07 20.07.24

2024-06-07 20.35.34

2024-06-07 20.22.49

2024-06-07 19.50.47

Adam's Spiffy

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