OYSTERCATCHERS: A POEM TO ACCOMPANY JAN WHITE'S PAINTING...

Oystercatchers Skimmed As I Surfed…

(Jan White's fine painting illustrates the scene)

The morning sun

Offered no warmth,

Merely gleam,

As tousled, wild sea, still in the throes of a spent storm,

Built layers at low tide:

Enticing, invigorating.

The swirling shallows

Extended no welcome,

Just coldness,

Upon vulnerable feet, still warm from a stern march:

Spoilt shivers of previous tides

Embracing, ingratiating.

The hurling surf

Spared no mercy, 

Merely thrust

And flung my board, still in the grip of tense hands:

Whipped down onto dying tide,

Racing, elating…

The oystercatchers flew east,

Mad breakers crested,

Just flashes of white and black:

Slim, red bills keen,

For my cold eyes a feast,

My attention arrested:

Just streaks on rip’s attack,

Solely by me seen… 

Pete Ray

(AT MAWGAN PORTH IN HAPPIER DAYS...)