Port Isaac

The milk blue swell

topped with silver crowns

breathes long a heavy sigh,

nudging the reef at Varley Head,

beer foam swamps the Shillingstones

roaring into its craggy gugs.

Three skiffs lie beached on dog leash chains

whilst unleashed dogs, seek

piddle smells to sniff,

bored grockles peer in tiny trinket shops

and follow pasty smells through the lanes.

These silent streets keep echoes warm

The Bark House nets, the Dolphin’s ale

and ghosts of shanties whispered low

swirl around old salted stones

like chimney smoke.

Published by grahamrsherwood