Whenever I walk past The Salt Pig, I gaze into its window -
There's the crossword gang, with their Daily Mails -
There's the burly window cleaner, with his holster of squeegees -
There's the lady with bright red glasses who lives each day as if it were her last -
On the bed of ice behind the window are set out fragile salty treasures, trout, brill and mackerel -
Today I saw a conger eel set out upon the ice -
He lay in his cruel glistening coil, his eyes like small freezing stones -
10.00
Friday 8 January 2015
Outside The Salt Pig
Wareham
No comments:
Post a Comment