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Where once September’s footfalls crimped an idle track from here to there and
nowhere the advancing October wash now dutifully filled each moat and raised each
castle; flattening each bounding hound hoof and flap of flip flop to a single flooding
plain of gold. The porcelain sky cracked as the sun’s kiss goodnight left a blushing
stain across the ocean’s rim and the line of dry foaming cappuccino tide marks
reanimated in the wake of breakers. Here today memories past danced with dreamed
desires. Their dress tails and heel turns traced by racing sand grains chased by the last
breath of summer from bunkered machine gun dug-outs, dunes and hidey holes to
skirmish with the invading Atlantic air. And then when at last the plimsoll line of salt
snotty urchins that crabbed and clung to ragged molars melted with the last of the
light, the parched tongue of Saunton Sands could gasp relief from the day.
© Paul Mackenzie