DUNGENESS ON A WINDY DAY
The best kind of day
whisks the hair back from your face,
yet lets the sun lick your
tingling, weathered skin.
Today is such a day
a brisk breeze carries endless secrets
mixing with the shingle
that tightly grips the stoic sea kale.
point pencil-like inland,
next to the rusty crawler whose
pulling powers appear over.
A cream clapboard house
with red-painted windows
sits like a shameless tart between
dingy, browns and greys
She does not blush
but holds herself proud
displaying a picture postcard
on a swathe of desolation.
The sun has kissed her many times
lulling her before the storms
that batter her garish body
as she solicits warmth and solace.
Before her, seagulls gather
warning of the approaching storm.
Huge numbers, silent, unmoving,
evading the wind on shingle heaven.
Dwarfed by the giant lighthouse,
before her black-painted neighbour
who sleeps soundly,
caressed by swaying pinks.