Five men, in orangey yellow overalls,
using long handled rollers are painting
the paddling pool – which is the size of four
tennis courts – that blue which only colour charts
show or astronauts will see. Beyond
is the limestone headland with rock-roses
amongst the scrub and fulmars nesting.
Far out to sea is a gathering,
stately and serried, of white, wind turbines.
I think of David Hockney’s iconic pools,
and of Robert Rauschenberg’s ‘Combines’ –
hybrids of sculpture and paint – and his ‘Jammers’ –
unvarnished poles and coloured canvas.
Uniformed artisans – artificers
of the imagination – these painters
each year layer this surreal blue. Sea water
fades it, and tiny feet.