North Road envelopes me in a cloak of leaves.
I slow, and catch glimpses of noble houses.
They draw me with their peace of age,
settled in quiet grandeur,
intrinsic to the oaks and lush green lawns.
I imagine polished boards, a ticking clock,
sweeping stairs and hidden rooms –
but then the street has passed
and I am into a different dream.
Late afternoon sun burnishes the waves
a silver slate, the water
bounds and falls across the sand
alive with rough relentless rhythm
indifferent to the coloured sails
which skim and swoop.
Houses here have acres of glass
and lofty perches to spy on the sea.
Up that high, there would be no Beach Road,
just the moods of the ocean
and my horizons.
Image credit: Beau Wade