Lisa tugged the collar of her coat closer as she wandered along the shell line. Her search today was for fragments of sea glass that she could use to make earrings. As always, the pieces were mainly green or white with the occasional brown. But what she sought most were the rare reds and blues. There, just there! Yes, a tiny red! She was happy.

III

The sea was pitching today, making it bloody hard work to manoeuvre the lobster creels. Fin shouted over "We'll take the 3 on the starboard then swing left towards the May". Geordie gave him a thumbs up and continued to pull on the ropes. Out of the water came a creel with a couple of large female lobsters, claws intact. They would be heading straight to the restaurant kitchen later. 

IV

They walked together but apart. A couple living and thinking in different worlds. He was analysing his work projects, she was missing the warmth of a hand to hold. She began to think of the local man she'd met at the coffee place last week. He seemed intelligent, kind and warm. She wondered where he was and what he might be doing. Love must find a way.

V

Those bastards with a box of chips, they never let him get too near. He'd stare at them with his beady eye, inching closer along the pier wall. Then they'd stamp their feet causing him to ruffle and re-settle his wings a couple of metres further back. He was caught in a perpetual game of seagull chess. The only prize on offer was the discarded leftovers once the couple had moved on.

VI

He strode along the low-water mark looking out to sea and thinking. He'd recently been exploring walking poetry, but needed some inspiration to start writing today. He scoured what lay at his feet, then eventually pulled up a piece of dark, heavy driftwood. 'Flotsam and Jetsam', that could be the title of today's piece.

VII

It had taken her a few days after hatching to realise she was a mackerel. Now her iridescent colours and patterned markings made her stand out. She'd lost contact with the rest of her shoal, but continued to swim around the familiar rocky sea bed and the fishing trawler wreck in search of her friends. She kept thinking she'd find them again soon.

VIII

Down by the shoreline the three boys were skimming stones. Harry was the strongest and best, easily able to throw a twenty-one'r. Pete was fairly good but soon got bored of the competitive element. Stephen was the youngest and spent most of his time looking for the perfect flat and round-edged stone. Ah, summer days were just the best.

IX

Her arms ruffled the moonlit water as the back-stroke took her further out from the shore. Shivering a little, she stopped to tread water and warm herself up again. It was beautiful to be alone under the starry sky. The water lapped gently against her back and neck. She felt invigorated again. She struck out again for the shore.

X

October brought gales and rain to the coastal regions. The wind whipped in from the south-east to crest the white horses and fleck the farm. Seagulls struggled to stay on course, wary of being blown over. And the tide raged in the dying light of the day. This was not a day to be beach-combing.

XI

It was a high Spring tide. The endless lapping of waves across the pebbles and onto the sand, almost a little percussion section playing a background symphony. A seal popped up a few metres from shore, sniffed the air then disappeared again. A shoal of mackerel darted under the surface further out. The waves kept on rolling gently in.

XII

This piece of teak had broken free from the decking of a sunken 1917 warship. It had been endlessly washed and gradually smoothed by the Atlantic currents. Now it lay on the strand at Luskentyre, awaiting discovery perhaps by a dog out for a low-tide walk. It was home.

September 2024