Littlehaven Poem by Paul Reed

Littlehaven lies in the wintery harbour
Waiting for shrieks and screams and laughter
Waiting to reflect the heat off walls
Into the blissful evenings after;

But now the sand whips up
In silent whispers of biting edges
Scraping the craters and ripples
Blasting the outcrops, grazing the ledges;

Amongst the searing silence
Under a sky that brightens and dulls
The sun gradually slipping away
Pitting deep shadows on rocks like skulls;

Bleary footprints leading nowhere
Going around in rings
Sifting away beneath the restless winds
Under the sand that sings.