Room with a View

House of all seasons. All seasons, turned willy-nilly. Salt-mist crystalized one month: azure lenses the next. The entire curved ocean a stage to gaze upon. Storms were best, with their hiss and slap of surf. Sharp cracking strafe of current-honed pebbles. Bay window-watching, mug in hand. All topsy-turvy on the Buckled floor In this building slowly…

Something out of nothing

There is such joy in skimming stones. Even in the searching and gathering; seeking rounded narrow discs. You need a calm moon, with the tide as peaceful as a millpond. Water as calm and misty as the eyes of a sated lover. Thigh-deep, launching stones as fisherfolk cast their nets. Each stone, caressed between fingers…

Skimming

I don’t like skimming the open sea. Mermaids snatch my stones. I prefer rock pools. Calm. Collected. Free of ripples (apart from my own). I savour every bounce. Every one. Even the ricochets (I love that word). Do the stones cheer as they fly? After millenia of shaping. I hope so. My soul cheers as…