Whilst we were walking from Drumbrugh to Port Carlisle, the tide came in, silently and swiftly, as though conjured, covering the marshes with shining water - fast flowing currents swirled over submerged reed beds - fish were swept over sculpted sand banks - seawater lapped against the narrow road -
We paused for a while, in Port Carlisle, opposite the old breakwater, a sad spine of decaying brick and tangled grass -
A small yacht was anchored a hundred yards or so offshore - a cormorant spread its wings -
Apart from the piping of seabirds, all was silent - I felt that I was at the end of England, about to step out of the visible world -
I gazed out over the wide Firth - I could see, very faintly, beyond the far shore in Scotland, the outlines of mountains under the vast ancient sky -
15.00
15 July 2015
Port Carlisle
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