Walking with You, by John Cooper

Here the hulks sit and rust, stuck fast in high creek mud, as water gently laps around those younger vessels further out from the shoreline.

Above, seagulls cry and shriek, using in-shore thermals to rise higher above the harbour, before wheeling down on the unsuspecting.

The sun in late afternoon casts shadows over the town walls, as we walk out through the quite boatyards, onto the mudflats.

You asked me once what made me happy.

I could not answer then, not knowing if anything really did; now I am certain, it is these walks alone with you and this landscape.