And Again, and: I Hate to Break It to You But
Rent from DeepDyve- And Again, and: I Hate to Break It to You But
And Again
A long, grey, endless beach, grey overhead,grey beneath feet and in the distance,just out of range, the windthrown voices of others.
Time to begin again.
When the tide retreats a little, hunker downwith tools laid out, bucket, spade, and coarse-grained sandand shells and stones to decorate.
Castle upon castle, the beach fills up, monuments to hoursspent crouching. Avenues of shell-decked streetsinvite the sun to part the clouds and briefly, as the grey dividesand light escapes across the sand, a city of fleck and goldappears, slivers of silver and dazzling white,shivers of colour reflecting the light. [End Page 16] The waters, lapping their applause, move farther back,to grant the vision scope and space.
A moment please, to let the eyes drink in the scene,to let the memory sink and settle, before the waterschange their mind and edge towards the falling down.
Time to let go again.
Gather up the well-worn tools and shake the sandfrom knees and hands, stretching those aching muscles.The empty-handed wind dies down, and the othersdrift along the beach, moving silently out of view.No one turns to watch the tide perform its lonely duty.
A long, grey, endless beach, grey overheadand grey beneath feet and nothing to fearbut fear itself and pillars and pillars of sand.
I Hate to Break It to You But
I hate to break it to you butdolphins swimming close to the shoreis not a guarantee of sunshine in Juneand the postman who predictedthe last nine summers accuratelymay be off form this yearand your man up in Donegalwho studies the flight pattern of insectshas been drinking too muchand didn't collect enough data. [End Page 17] And while we are on the subject,heavy downpours in March do not meanwe have used up our quota of rainfallfor the rest of the year.The man who makes the weatherdoesn't always play it fair.I'll tell you something for nothing,an Irish Summer is predictably unpredictable.So the next time someone in workwho knows someone who worksin the meteorological officetells you that August will be a scorcher,treat them to a look of pityor get them in a headlock,just don't believe a single word they say.
Anne Tannam's debut book of poetry is Take This Life. Her poems have appeared in Irish magazines and anthologies. Born in Dublin, she is a regular contributor to the UpStart blog.
