There’s a soft sound in the back of her head. She’s been hearing it since making breakfast under the awning while looking over the bay. It’s a tune from way back when, when holidays were simple and straightforward. When no new discoveries were to be made, when holiday-islands were small and could be ‘done by bike’ in a day.
A few words pop up, the melody is coming back. It’s a song that seems to fit so well there and then. It underlined the idea of at least staying one day at the bay. One day to give to the wet tent and the damp sleeping bags. Although there’s a light mist over the bay and no sign of sunshine, they will take that one day. Wondering if that would be enough to walk around, to hike, to paddle, to be amazed and to hopefully find a few souvenirs on the beach.
So, she’s humming while crouching in the wet sand….
….stones small and big, pebbles in all colours, rocks and boulders too….
The pebbles, when covered by the seawater are precious gems. They all want to be picked and brought home. No no, don’t wipe them clean, they’ll lose their brightness and radiance. When fully dry they seem less valuable. The smallest and shiniest ones will disappear in the pockets of jacket or jeans, to be put in a dedicated canvas bag in the back of the car. Later, at the end of the day.
The song remains. It has settled itself firmly in her head, the lyrics coming back with every pebble she decides to keep.
* 🎵 Turn, turn, turn 🎵 with thanks to The Byrds
Someone took lines of Yeats’ poems too literally and stole that ‘human child’ from the spot where it was sitting, wishing for the cloths of heaven.
“….Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand…”
“….I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”