At high tide all this is water ...

I followed Penelope across silent fields, past riven oaks, towards Ower Bay -

Our walk had taken us through pine plantations, then sunlit heathland -

We'd seen a buzzard, scanning the bright land - they eat young rabbits Penny had said - 

Cows turned their heads to watch us go by - purple foxgloves were shoulder high - 

We walked down a stony track, shaded by trees, to reach the shore - 

The tide was out - seaweed filmed the shingle - a winding glistening channel led out to Ramshorn Lake - small islands were mysterious kingdoms - 

I looked through Penelope's binoculars at some oystercatchers - 

A cottage of old brick and stone stood upon the shore - summer greenery and flowers almost covered one buttressed wall - 

I peered through the windows into the empty rooms - they were in louche disorder - 

A dog leapt against the glass - 

At high tide, all this is water Penelope said - 

12.30

Tuesday 9 June 2015

Ower Bay

Poole Harbour