Beyond The Dunes
by Jim C Wilson
Beyond the dunes the sea is grey and deep;
it's edging up the beach, like liquid lead –
cold, almost, as sleet. So I will keep
to my path, eyes near-shut, fixed straight ahead.
Then home once more, I have a compulsion
to dive deep down into myself – and write;
but, as the daylight dies, I emulsion
a wall, until I see nothing but white.
Winter winds are moving in the roof space;
I hear them sigh. A second wall shines white
as darkness spreads. Soon, all will be in place,
I think. Now all the house is gripped by night.
Beyond the dunes the sea is deep and black.
Across my finished paintwork runs a crack.