ONLY a log washed up past the pebbled beach

is testament to the waves which have thundered

high up into the brutal bruised ether.

But today the sun sinks down a benign sky

painting a silver corridor in the channel

for the god of rage now sleeps for a while

and just for once I can see people smile.

A giant snake of cars leaves Barry Island

for it seems as if it’s the first day for a year

that the sky is as blue as the Arabian sea.

I skim a pebble into the calm water

as a seagull glides majestically above

and all my troubles have been left behind,

I feel part of the universal mind.

Guy Fletcher