The curator ...

The museum was at the end of a narrow lane - 

Below us was the village with its winding stairs - 

There were mariners' ghosts in Silver Street - 

A fisher wife haunted Tommy Baxter Street -

Sea frets chilled The Square -  

The low tide revealed a shore of rock and sand - 

The curator wore a navy blue gansey - 

He'd fished these waters since his first beard grew - 

He told us his father had been nearly lost in The South China Sea - 

He was the last of a line of seafaring men - 

For moment, I heard the wind - 

I was held fast by the curator's glittering eye - 

22 April 2022

Robin Hoods Bay