by Robin Boothroyd

So I spent last weekend on the coast with friends pretending it was Christmas. It was amazing! I also managed to scribble down a few lines intended for ‘Fathom’ before the festivities began. It was great to smell the sea air again.


Rivulets purl
through clefts
rock pools
with beadlet
and gush
into the deep.

O waves!
I bury my nose
in your brackish scent
as I would the breast
of a lover.


Read more sections from ‘Fathom’, my ongoing project about the sea, here.