PADSTOW, QUITE STILL...

 Padstow, Quite Still…

There was no breeze.

No movement. Even in the muted, locked

Harbour, its enclosed sea barely rippled.

There was an ease. 

A silence. As if the elements mocked

The harbour, its reflected lights in the water stippled.

There was no strife.

No hubbub. Even from the muted hostelries.

The quay was drenched in its own ambivalence.

There was curious life.

An indifference. An absence of frivolities.

A still quay, devoid of its lively, raucous arrogance…

Pete Ray

17th November 2021 

Padstow was silent on two successive November evenings.

Dark, still, with minimal movement.

There was no wind. The harbour’s water was like a placid pond. 

An occasional human voice could barely be heard.

And some distant wader scolded…