And the wind waves the sand
And seagulls cry
And the wind cries
And water uncoils in a quiet row
And the sun watches us
And emerges the house
small and placid
with its air of agelessness
of being here since time immemorial
looking after the beach
that warps and oscillates
and after happy ramblers
who brave the sky’s temper

Castlepoint
As a painting of the world’s end
Melancholic under the stunning weather
Still in the raging air
The lighthouse at the tip
And the dancing birds
Perfume of a simple happiness
Immense above all

It’s the story of a Sunday. We got up early, we were laughing already. We hit the road, we stopped multiple times, we drank iced coffees and bought bottles of wine, in the car we listened to German, Dutch, French, Irish, Swedish songs, eating chips. 

It was beautiful at the top of the lighthouse. There was wind, a lot. It was so loud, we could barely stand up. Our hair got tangled, the air rushed up our necks, up our sleeves, battering our faces.
We almost thought we were being attacked by seagulls, we ran on the beach, we played ball, we picnicked on the sand. There were even homemade chocolate mud cakes, which we ate with our fingers. The water was cold, we didn’t swim. We tried to take a group picture, but it was too windy, we couldn’t hold on, couldn’t smile all at once. And we laughed, so much.

We left as we had come, under the late afternoon golden sun, passing chocolate bars from the back to the front of the car. It was quieter, it went well with the sky turning pale and the light growing dark as the day was dying a little. 

It was a happy day, one to remember, one to talk about in a few years’ time, as the one where it all began, perhaps.

If you’d like to receive my monthly inspirational newsletter filled with poetry, exclusive photos, and small, sweet things, join the mailing list right here👇🏻

Music Vibes