Coast

The sky is a scribbled-on slate
A careful study in grey
Like a dull ache, day follows day
At night the town glows softly
Like an elaborate goodbye

The wind crosses the tidal flats

It teases samphire and rocket
And pushes a stiff-winged tern
Slowly, over the shell bank
This is where I began.

Note: Bradwell-on-Sea which gave rise to this is small village at mouth of the Blackwater Estuary in Essex. It has one of Britain's most ancient churches , built by Saxons from the ruins of a Roman fort; also an airfield used in World War two and a pub, The Cricketers, which used to have the signatures of doomed airmen inscribed on its ceiling. Oh and an nuclear power station. It's a haunting place, a couple of hours drive from London.