James Rose

NOT MISSING BASINGSTOKE

Feathery fronded rivulets drain to the sea,
Mirroring the stranded wracks,
Horned, serrated, bladder;
Lugworms’ sinuous, mudded mounds
Cast elongated shadows on the silk smooth sand;
Low waves slowly roll and gently slap the shore.

He answers the trilling phone –
Electronic intrusion:
‘On the beach. Yes. Glorious.’
‘No. No, not at all.’
The incoming tide crosses the fractal folds of the beach
And soothes his footprints away.

Copyright © James Rose 2017

I am a retired physician, a Northumbrian by upbringing and affiliation. I write short stories and poetry and these have been published in magazines and an anthology..

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About sunnydunny

Poet, publisher, gardener
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One Response to James Rose

  1. carole925 says:

    Beautiful, James. Nice to be taken there for a few minutes.

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