This place speaks of other times, a voice from the unseen. Long before fishermen’s cottages turned into holiday homes. It is still the same river that flows to sea past scattered stones, the sound of shingle. The people change, the houses change. The bay sleeps where it always has, between sheets of silt and honey-coloured grass.
an oystercatcher piping
above the waves
© Xenia Tran
With love from Eivor, Pearl and Xenia xxx
Photographs by Xenia Tran, edited in lr.
Settings: f/4.5, 1/1000 s, ISO 100, f/3.5, 1/1250 s, ISO 100 and f/3.5, 1/2000 s, ISO 100.
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A newer version of this poem features in Between Heather and Grass. If you haven’t read the book yet, feel free to take a peek inside: