Monday 17 April 2017


The sea is petulant tonight:
Crashing and bashing the beach
Trying to claw back attention
From 'eyes down' fossil hunters.
Their attention is not on tides
But transfixed on the lump of rock
Which might produce treasure. The chip,
Chip of hammer on stone rivals
The waves, counterpointing its smacks
And slow withdrawal over shale.
Their thrust is to find, hold and have
Proof of millions of years old, life.
The sea is irrelevant to them.

'Don't climb: unsafe cliffs'.
Two prats ignore signs, get stuck,
The life boat is called.

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