Between marsh and sea, we walk:
Winchelsea to Fairlight.

Pebbles shift beneath our feet
as the backwash rattles the shingle.

We watch gulls rise, glide
and descend on the breeze that
races in from the sea.

Massed wooden soldiers guard the shore.

Whilst lone sentinels keep vigil,
aged by time and tide.

Solitude briefly gains company.

Things left behind
colour our journey.

Lengthening shadows all too soon
signal its end.

Last light sinks towards the marshes
as this day closes.