Eyes closed, and coffee in hand;
hot and steamy, full of the smell of roasted beans.
It adds a special buzz to the morning as I stand,
Leaning against the camper van on the drive.
Facing the winter Sun.
Low in the sky, but yet powerful.
Golden and yellow; the sky too bright to see.
And around me, the day bustles on.
The noise of traffic, and of school yard children,
Drifts across my mind.
And in my mind I am not here.
The traffic has become the roaring swashing sea,
And the children’s laughter sets them beside sand castles.
The birds around me call, in hedgerow voices
But I hear seagulls.
The low Sun, as low as ever it can be,
Leaves long shadows behind me as I stand.
Coffee gone, troubles gone, an hour… gone.
Solstice is upon us and the darker year holds sway
And I still hear the sea,