Porthleven Harbour. Cornwall. 23 February 2021

Roar. #144

 Sounds of crying Herring Gull held in the wind. Mimicking lost souls forced under and consumed by mountainous seas.

 Spray turned to foam by relentless battering of wind and wave. Hunching behind weathered stone, Rock Pipit rest from the teeth of the gale.

 Deserted harbour shields lifting vessels from destruction. No living to be made; no lives to be threatened, no pleasure to be cruised.

 Far off raft of sea duck: too distant and too veiled to pin down to type. A drifting, bobbing wreck of pelagic wanderers.

 Howling wind and numbing senses; a maelstrom stalking empty streets free of tat and trinkets. The distant past haunting the present...

Porthleven Harbour. Cornwall. 15 February 2021

Sphere. #143

 Weak but welcome sun turning gloom into warmth. Lighting the incoming tide and with it hope and expectation. All enveloping. Massaging beaten and dulled senses anew.

 Too tame comic Turnstone move amongst rock covered weed. Lifting both slime and bladderwrack to feast on maggot and springtail, a bountiful harvest of piled decay.

 Squabbling second year Herring Gull fight over discarded 'by-catch'. Outcast 'club' bullies, preordained to forever run with the pack.

 Imperious Great Black-backed Gull move amongst them. Taking at will with anthropomorphised distain. Accepting no dissent; giving no quarter, reflecting the larger world in miniature...

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