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The incoming tide brings shoals of mackerel fry.

Herring gulls, perhaps a hundred, more,

young among them in their mottled plumage,

are yelling at the water’s edge, feeding

in frenzy as the small waves scatter.

Far out on the low, narrow, wooden jetty

my small family leans over to marvel

at the fishes before landfall. At my back

is the white crescent of hotels, the town,

the estuary, the mountains, sun setting.


They cross the beach, granddaughter running ahead,

towards me, as the frenetic birds

yell and flap. Along the horizon,

the forest of white wind turbines slowly

disappears, becomes a blurred prism of green,

ivory, red – like an attenuated,

distant, gaudy city.




© Copyright David Selzer
1 Response
  • Dave Williams
    June 11, 2019

    Love ‘Highwater’ – captures the scene with superb eloquence. You tried to teach me English at Wirral Grammar in the early 70s- I knew you’d make it one day!!!
    I will read more!!

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