Sea. A red buoy rolls on the
placid tide
Like a Christmas bauble,
A trawler working over the
horizon
Into infinity.
Goats browse on the beach,
Passing over cracked plastic
containers,
Discarded fishing net, rubbery
seaweed
With the certainty of wisdom.
Surf licks after their hooves,
Strong undertow clawing the
sand
Where gulls feud over a reeking
crab.
To the East,
Snake Island is a venomous
full stop
On a sea plated silver.
