The bones of the beach lie exposed at low tide,
a poetry of the place is emerging.
Sound of the wind blowing through the sheoaks,
turquoise and blue smiling back at me from the water.
Puffy-cloud ships sailing past,
they’re in no hurry today.
Dwelling… here in this place.
Something has shifted for me,
almost like the softening of scar tissue.
Not sure that it is a vulnerability,
just an opening to see, hear, feel, smell and ‘listen’
to be with…
Hesitation to enmesh,
I visualise self and place like tissue fibers re-knitting in the heal of a cut.

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