I watch the three generations – mother,
daughter, grand daughter – walk, hand-in-hand, in
toddler steps, to the sea’s edge, and paddle
in the calm, beryl blue waters of the bay.
Opposite, along the Lleyn Peninsula,
over its mountain – The Rivals – with its
three summits, a white, single seater flies,
its engine echoing across this August day.
Laughing in the shallows, they have not seen it.
Their splashing drowns the sound of the plane
absorbed into the distant heat haze.