Tangles in glass pools, little feet daring. Lifting rocks, wet socks, the arc of the tideline. Spring’s water sculptures in drifting wood, twine loops and plastic colours. Cuttle bones, beach combs and the secret creep of the estuary. Campfires, the spit, the crack of hot flint. My old pans, supper, plans for a night swim. The collector, the deep green and the browns of the waters’ weed. White angry barrels, the fall, the push, the suck and drag. Crabs, litter, lobster pots. Mud slips, green tips, marine sky for ever, samphire and the drink.