Sitting silently in the sand listening to the ceaseless susuration of the surf
pounding relentlessly against the shore
cigarette smoke curling lazily round my hand
the wind brushing gently across my naked flesh
raising goosebumps on my skin.
seabirds wheel across the sunlit sky diving and turning
in their quest for food
gannets like stukas divebombing the waves
eider ducks bobbing as terns and auks
skim the tops
whilst redshanks and oystercatchers tip tap their way
along the shore
the peace i feel is total
no need for me to fret over food
nip down the store or get a takeaway
someone else does the graft
and yet,
the hunter/gatherer instinct beats strong
suppressed or dormant
But we are only ever three meals from anarchy
new orleans sweeps through my mind
an inundation of biblical proportions the search for food and water
becomes a matter of life or death
we take so much for granted until lost
asain tsunami ditto
the power of the sea unleashed against man
nothing personal just natures way
too many people too few resources so
mother nature redresses the odds
and yet
i sit silently in the sand
smoke curls round my hand
seabirds wheel across the sunlit sky
in search of food
feed or die
i am at peace
no need to fret
and yet
Hamish MacDonald "Druidh" a gallus loon
- 1 month, 4 days ago
