Bouquet by the beach

When I walked up from the beach through the woods at Penbryn yesterday I was reminded of this poem, written in May 2016. It's also in my latest collection, 'Before we Breathe'
 

Bouquet by the beach

Wet wool hangs raw from barbs on a fence

where the smell of sheep had gathered,

 

ferns uncurl in woods to hide bluebells,

their fragrance sketched all over the air.

 

A thousand flowers of hawthorn open,

tiny stamens like dots of dust

Photo by Dave Urwin

 

on a perfect white cloth.

On cliffs where water falls sea pinks hug slate,

 

make thrift in abundance, overlaying

seaweed traces on a breeze.

 

Salt stings your lips, ties knots in your hair,

tickles your nose, fills your head.

 

In the café a caramel cookie rests

wide and flat, sweet and delicate in its thinness,

 

on a bone china plate; fragments of chocolate

soften in the sun,

 

and there is coffee. I breathe through the steam,

catch scents of chocolate, of bluebells, and the sea.