Quay and tea

Salty fishing huts,
Decaying.
Fraying, swaying
Tangled rope.
Old fangled
Lanterns.

Jam & crabs,
Salmon & dabs;
Foggy tea,
Weed curdling
Sea.

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Weekly Photo challenge: The golden hour

The golden hour begins
As a medley of majestic
Melon,
Opulent orange,
Sultry sanguine
And raspberry
Ripple
Seep serenely:
The sky prepares
To sleep.

Fishermen’s huts
Heave into slumber,
Creaking gently.
A brisk breeze;
A salty scent of
Slithering skate
Funnels through
Wooden slats,
Waking the ghosts
Of cod and
Heaving haddock.
Pearcing purple dust,
Dwindles to dusk;
Nibbled nets
Nest with
Lumbered
Lobster pots,
Lovingly abandoned.

My response to the challenge is the evocation of the sun going down on the beach, where the fishing huts feel ‘ lovingly abandoned’ for the night after a hard day’s work; there is also a deeper sadness in the ‘creaking’ wood and the ‘nibbled nets’ of a disappearing industry as youngsters move away to work: ‘purple dust turns to dusk’ and skills and experience die out.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/07/12/photo-challenge-the-golden-hour