Here is my edge

Pliny and Nostradamus are walking on the beach from Semaphore South to Largs. It is Saturday afternoon, around half past 2.

The air is warm, with a mild cool breeze. The sun is shining in a wide uneven strip of blue sky between clouds. The clouds are light grey and dark grey, stirred with curdled cream.

The clouds have turned the sea the colour of sage. It is glittering, tight-lipped and foamless. On the horizon, 3 ships move slowly north on a silver ribbon of light.

The Semaphore jetty is black against the sage and emerald sea. The sun and the dark clouds have turned it into a painting. Young people standing in the shallows near the jetty have become part of the painting. They are tall and richly coloured and they do not move in the glittering sea.

( the sea is glittering, is sage, the sea is thinking sagely, and in triangles, little triangles of light, foamless and sage..... the sea is thinking sagely...... here is my edge....)

Under the sand is a thin layer of green.