Drowned World

By Vita Forest

In our own worlds

Looking at the hidden worlds in the water 

In the pools left by the sea.

Balancing, bending, picking, choosing, rubbing rocks through finger tips

Standing in a field of shells

Speckling sand

Shards of glass rubbed smooth by the sea

The helmet of a crab 

The tail of a lobster

Beads of seaweed 

Chunks of golden sponge

Hefted lightly in my hand.

Pockets percussive with clattering collections

Watching monumental molluscs move

Millimetre by millimetre

Twisting paths over black boulders 

Water winking in the indents of rocks

Reflecting the sky, the clouds, the light, the face peering down to the flash of opalescence deep down amongst the dark 


A row of molluscs huddled in a crevice

Warrigal greens sprawling over black stones 

Balls of raindrops rolling on the leaves of nasturtiums 

Looking back at the rearing hill with its indents of cow hoofs and the chatter of hidden birds


Through eyes, through camera lenses, through words shouted into the wind and the muttered impressions in my mind

Saving them, holding them til I reach pen and paper, like a handful of sea-smooth stones.

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