Clarion

Castle in the Sand

Last day, this vac, too last for liking,
as, next time I'm here, this iconic place
will probably be in dismantlement -
things missing here and there, you know,
(to fund my mother's care for several years
the house has to be cleared and sold).
Or everything but the remnants might be
stored, and we'll be camping in (not-out)
while mother toddles safely on (touch wood).

So time must burn up (or eat) time;
and as it slow unpicks my mother's mind,
despoils her bedroom faster - the where
she never sleeps more - strips the paintings
from the walls and relics from the surfaces -
some to mnemonic her present bedrooms,
my sisters' care, Cambridge and Brighton.

Dappled cloud in great sky shoals
and musing blue the puddle-pools
a high tide left on the low path. Up here,
the sandy boardwalk, daisy-bordered way,
dandy-leonine there, there, by clumps
of blackberry hooped, bare, barbed stems
sporadic with overwintered leaves
and beyond, the marram still so
white haired, windblown, hoary.

"It's not a beach day, Dad!" says Brendan, rightly;
the cloud has lidded, tide's way out so no
solace here of waves to lull the smart
of time of year* of life, of what the hell.
I say, "It is the only day we got,"
and twist his will to play rounds of beach golf
with holly walking-stick stuck in gravel
as pole must be knocked ag'in' to finish;
and plastic spades to hoik the tennis balls
towards the pole. A gentle stroll it is
until that Benny's fingers near drop off.
"Too bloody cold. I've had enough for now."
But Joe learns basics quickly, cheeringly.

"OK. It's not so hot; and yet we'll build
a proper castle." Joe is game, good boy,
to fill the buckets and to search the sands.

We gate the thing with half an oyster-shell
portcullis it with several razor-shells.
Built well above the last high-tide debris,
safe from the sea but not from from casual boots.
Brendan divines a short pine log for bridge.

I imagine bloody histories of the thing.

We're down to catch some wave-sound - on away -
back by the trail of swash, the beach-day done.

.................................

*C left in April after the Easter Holidays - three years ago, mind; but I am more elephant than kitten in memory. ;)

Now this 'Castles Made of Sand' Utube is not Hendrix playing or singing. But that is because he is still in copyright and Utube won't allow the original. Hence, this a cover.