I ADMIRE the pristine pier

as silvery as the placid June sea.

A young couple stroll without a care

and people relax outside the pier cafe.

Through cracks in the wooden boards

the sea sparkles with a thousand stars

and above white clouds break like spring sea ice,

I seem to drift as if in paradise.

As I walk further out into the channel,

warm sun burning gold in my hair

viewing Steep Holm and Flat Holm to my right

unmolested by waves on this sedate Friday.

To my left red and grey cliffs speak of this planet’s long history

reminding me of Victorian summer days

overdressed crowds who walk the Earth no more

numerous as the pebbles on the shore.

Guy Fletcher