A wee poem about nothing else but being in the moment! Which is enough I reckon.
Foreshore I walked as if walking was the only thing worth doing, and the sea was not far away, and the gulls soared and called above the foreshore I had chanced upon. Colours flowed by the path, and marram grass waved as I passed, the names of things drifted away, nothing mattered but that morning. The clouds broke, and gave up the sun. Derek Ross