A resignation of sleeping owls

dusty newel posts, swivel heading.

Two plump packed zebras in

chocolate and ivory

one hoof coquettishly angled.

 

Anonymous creatures on secret missions,

fossa, agoutis, kinkajou and pangolin.

A perky bat, chittering, almost within reach.

 

Connie roars then sleeps, sulky browed.

She licks like my homecat but her tongue is longer than my arm.

Her head is massive, solid as a castle keep.

Paws chunky as velvet breeze blocks.

 

A trudge down Newquay streets to Lusty Glaze where

lumpy women heave Frisbees, just missing my ear.

Rocks bristle with mussels.

Children in baggy shorts lash out at cricket stumps.

Dogs threaten, spar, capitulate.

 

Behind us on the cliffs the hotels jostle.

Edwardian pride sidling up to modern cubist drab.

Tangles of shops push and shove

mostly selling dross.

 

On the headland the whitewashed Hewer’s hut,

the place for spotting herring shoals

long ago.

Trek to the bus station.

Our bus is cancelled - we get the 837 home.