coaxed down to the beach by the early morning slumber balm of sunshine, ha, an hour or so snaffled from the maul of work, always the sweeter
there to ponder a few flakes of flint, fallen from their bed in the chalk cliffs above, ocean smoothed, enthralled by the sheen, sea mirrored… old wisdom of stone… gneiss next to gnosis?
our anscestors would always have spent their winters sheltered somewhere near the sea… rich pickings… here to guzzle seaweed, pluck slobbery mussels off the rocks at low tide, else greedy eye the tantalise, scaley glitter of fish
omnivores, we are not much in the way of beasts of fang and claw? rather the boon of flint and fire, creatures of curiosity, ingenuity… humour, shared stories, each other that has ever buoyed us up
the restless jostle of waves on the beach… the lick and spit of flame gnawing at wood… aloft midst branches, the soothe gentle pummel of wind through leaves
with this eternal stir forth from stillness
world speaks through us
