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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 6, Number 1, March 2012

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Diana Webb
Leatherhead, Surrey, England


High Tide at Sunset

From the promenade above the Thames, on London's South Bank, a few of us toss coins down on the shore. A man has been working there all day at the craft he knows best. Around him, structures designed by illustrious artists rise in all directions, well known landmarks; Blackfriars Bridge, The OXO Tower, and surmounting them all in its gleam of glory, the dome of St Paul's.

Time for tea as the afternoon's bright sunlight fades and the air grows cold. A Remembrance Day poppy lies at our feet as we grip the chill rail to let drop one last coin.

damp materials
slipping through—
all the veins
in the palms
of his hands

her hourglass figure
sculpted of sand—
a leaf
ticks
down

a spade
is a spade
is a spade—
so many deep furrows
for her hair

beneath
her tranquil smile
so many dreams awash . . .
away with her
the waves

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