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Click hereEstuary. Birds on the mudflats, mirrored clouds, space -
the wide expanse of sea, sand - on the river
mist is rising. Lost hoots hang on the cold air
like thin lines etched across the slow day's
decline. Not now sad foghorns wail. Time
has long overtaken the last ships' use, the hum
of engines passing overhead sometimes comments
on different shores. The swish of waves on mud,
the seagulls' cries fading on the grey dusk - sounds
as lonely as this treeless land and sky - returned
unnoticed, life reverted back: progress brought desertion.
The Norsemen's longboats would meet no resistance here.
a river mouth meetin' the sea !! Beautiful [ as usual ]