The last sea-swim of summer’s short season
I swim in Sheringham, over the rocks
Too sharp to stand on, arcing hands upon
The shiny shifting surface as it knocks
And rocks and lifts and drops, pushes or blocks.
Cloud cover covers all but this corner
Near Cromer; over here the water looks
Clear, warmer; I ought to say lukewarmer.
I fought the spray to delay the drama
Of calmer summer becoming freezing
Winter water, as autumn winds the clocks
And cocks its ear towards that dark mourner
Who storms in unerringly, the breeze gone;
From shore’s safety see Neptune shake his locks.
Fri 31 Aug 2007
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