Wind whips water
Hockney blue
white crests
surfers ride
sea horse:
sand tumbles
from beneath
& coral
throws itself
against my feet.
Wind fans
the heat
body brown
lithe follows
currents.
Isle like
a tea cup
in its saucer
of the sea
asks me to linger
under Tamarind tree
sleep in this cradle
always.
Victoria Mosley 