kittiwakes, oystercatchers, zen like herons.
Our hotel is by the sea, near my old home.
I take up the rhythm, sea sounds were my lullaby,
my breathing attuned to the surge of waves -
the soft release across the shingle. Home.
My teenage years, walking to escape censure, exposure
miles of coast, clink and tinkle of masts from small boats.
Early boyfriends tested by the elements.
I ache for water, the song of the sea’s traced
into my soundscape tattooed on my heart.
Keening sea birds call me home.