Searoader

By Mark Daniels

Current affairs.

If I had to pick one picture, with which to describe what it’s like, it would be this.

Which is nice, as it is from today.

It’s never orchestrated, that’s not what I’m saying, if in fact I am saying anything of importance. You are the best judge of that.

As a crow spreads it’s dewy wings, shaking out the incumbent wetness of this World, and fly’s it’s way to New York, or somewhere, I’ll let you decide the destination of your dreams. 

But an apple big will do me fine.

This photo has everything, nearly.

Which is close enough.

But not too near, as to burn the fingers of the soul that took it.

A beach down again, because there were a lady swimming off the one from yesterday. At this rate I’ll be in Bexhill by a week or two. Then Brighton, Lowestoft in a calendar year. That’s the dream we are dreaming. The royal us.

In this picture, there is a lot going on.

The sea I just been in seems a light show, shimmering in phantasmagorical  fancy, hallucinogenic in its transient formation.

Lucid,

But incomprehensible.

I’ll have that carved on my headstone,

By a crow, or a magpie, I’m not fussed.

There is a digitally created rainbow to the left, made real by the damp dunking of my much maligned phone.

The sky above has real clouds, but also weather made by scattered droplets of the water that surrounds.  

The Sun glows resplendent at the centre, like it always has and shall. Light that took a hundred million mile to come.

To radiate my beach-trod feet. Which as always anchor the airy environment to ground.

If there is one thing,

I would take with me to remember it all.

It would be this.

Just now.

Forever.