Peach-coloured sun,
pulling up and away from the horizon.
Wind-wipped waves
frothing and foaming.
And the sand underfoot on tarmac,
gathering like a million miniature crystal leaves.
Flashes of red, turquoise and white
as the windsurfers battle to stay upright.
The clouds darken as the sun
lights up the toft.
Inside, in a leather chair
by the log fire,
with a virgin oak malt
that warms and comforts.
I begin to navigate.
Sandy Wilkie, 2023