There’s a seal in the harbour

fat as a bottle,

hankering after the “Jeanne Marie”.

The fisherman ignores

the black unblinking plea

but we, on the quayside,

wish he’d throw

a fish.

And I wish I was in the water too.

I want to squeeze his tight bulk to me,

feel the brush of hard whiskers

smell his ocean breath.

Want that ease of motion -

swim with him, down

to where the sea has no bottom

only a green dimness.

Think how the world must look !

So sharp and clean and bright

as, rising up,

we’re blinded by daylight.

9am St Ives harbour 12th Aug 2011