MOUSEHOLE, NOVEMBER... (FROM LIZZIE BLACK'S PAINTING...)

                        Mousehole, November…

(from Lizzie Black’s painting…)

There’s a steep descent, upon a concrete stair

To a plethora of sodden ropes at low tide.

Beached, glimmering weed clings to dulled chain

And inquisitive Turnstones mither upon a proliferation

Of hard, dank sand. And broken pottery ware

Amongst litter and minute plastic waste lies unspecified.

And myriad gleaming stones and pebbles tarry arcane.

And mesmeric awe turns like the tide into mild elation…

The sullen granite walls and the jumble

Of quayside, seaside dwellings clutter

The harbour’s delicate pretence of humble,

Where narrow lanes of jaundiced gutters

 Cause a faltering stride to slow and stumble

 And one’s debilitating strife to stall and stutter…

Pete Ray

January 25th 2021

Lizzie Black’s painting, from a November day during the current pandemic reminded me of how many times I have walked, mused and loved this piece of the harbour in Mousehole.

Somehow any mental strife leaves the mind, just as the tide leaves the harbour…

The jaundiced gutters are of course the yellow lines painted on the narrow village lanes…