I look towards the rocks from Hodgson’s Slack and raise my hand, salute and share with love parental memories. The tide is out, the beach and rock strewed with the debris from a northeast gale, I reminisce on childhood’s past.
Those golden summer sands bedecked, sand-castled, paper flags flying, sport in the breeze while Castle Keep on headland, stands proud against a blue sky flecked with cloud, a silhouette-guardian to Scarborough town, in ages past.
Now, children play, sienna tanned, joyful in the sun and sand, spades and buckets in their hands...nets too, to wade those treasured tidal pools for Nature’s trove, while donkeys stand, patiently beached, as treat, await child jockeys’ glee as summer breeze moves o’er shore and sea and wavelets ripple sand to tickle toes and glory to be free.
Sweet memory of candy floss and ice cream cones but oh! the vex the tears toppled in the sand err taste be tongued, the child’s cry mingling with those of gulls who, wing down to gather up that treat to take off for the headland’s craggy height, to cliff bird-cities and there alight by nest with view, unsurpassed, they do not envy those below who scan those skyie heights enthralled.
Spring tides, slack water turns to ebb through sun and moon’s authority; on balmy nights, flat calm, clear sky, full moon, a silvery light reflects off sea and, reflecting love doth tryst...while Poseidon rests.
Deserted now as church bells ring an autumn change on spirited festival of harvest winds that blend with transient Curlew’s call as journey’s end on sandy shore where waters meet around the bay, Turnstone, Dunlin, Sanderling, Oyster Catchers...Waders, prey the water’s edge while lapping lip of rippling tide makes islets of the rock outcrops till floods the tops again yield...to Neptune’s sovereignty and domain.
On promenade the chalets stand bright painted, silent, sentinel to that scene, gaze eastward to horizon, edge to edge with that great firmament, the trinity, the starry dome, the universe, our cosmic home. We, reminisce on childhood’s past and share with love parental memories, to dream of heaven and...perhaps of paradise beyond, the farther shore...as many do.
David K Lazenby
Scalby Mills Road