Three miles of sand stretch to Putsborough beach,
a winter walk winces tight tingling cheeks,
dogs run, dig and bark, wag-wriggling in glee,
the day is lightened, we’re sea-spray-spit free.
No need to take boots off to feel the sand
like summertime trickling where seaweed stands,
today, the bite of sea breeze finds faces,
we stomp and shiver, Boxing Day races,
shared strides, waves and wishes, just for the day
watch kids, kites ‘n surfboarders’ plashing play.
The rain stings and bounces off high sea walls,
yet, warm, scarved and gloved, no one minds at all.
We’ll come back one day and tread tall again
in Mortehoe parish, a cool winter gem.
Polly Stretton © 2015