between the Sea Marina and Grand Pier.
The severe wind is so fierce
it threatens to send me through the air.
There is something frightening
about the power of nature, I feel frail
insignificant compared to the gale.
The slashing rain has left the sky
and a weak sun turns the Channel silver.
There's not a soul on the beach,
it has a terrible beauty.
The breakers crash into Breen Down,
it leaves me so breathless but I adore
the vast empty splendour of Weston shore.