Thursday, 4 March 2010

Ode to an old oar

Don’t worry, no poetry. But that old oar, washing in and out with every wave seemed to warrant a few lines. Traditional Catalan oars had appeared here just a few days before and now there was half a one right there in the water. The loom and handle had gone, just the shaft and blade remained, thoroughly stripped of paint after doing time in the shorebreak.

1 comment:

Thomas Armstrong said...

Ben, the thought, the recognition, the post, is a virtual haiku.