Dumbstruck by the play of dipping golden winter sun, clouds and waves

You crept in behind my back

Several captured images later I turned to leave the island

and saw what you’d done

what you’d begun to do.
Your current already slopped across the causeway, rising steadily

meaning my return would be wet

A short drive home in soggy pants would be all.

Still hurry now, you demanded

Casting your line for a confused urgent impulse

hooking it with aplomb

You weren’t that deep, you wouldn’t rise that far or fast, but get a move on

Wet shoes


Quickly now



Just get across


So panicked I barely felt your temperature


What the fuck



Incredulous, I swam

How had this happened?

Was this It?

So you were Death’s courier?

Please not yet, please not yet

I had more to offer, just wasn’t sure what it was


Winter-dressed legs and arms challenged your current

A hard long loud yell for help

You pressed and pushed me down:



deep breath

salt spat

“..on their way!” called from the shore

Adrenalin fought back: I dug and pushed and slapped

Small progress, toes flailing for a small edge of rock

Slipped by, gone again.

Land was close, I could beat you

Three specs growing larger, running down the beach

Again pointed tip-toes reached for rock

This time toes held, a stubbly slippery gradient met to the full surface of feet

Reintroduced me


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