A Beer Beach Poem

Here, the Regatta flags obey
Ancient bylaws
Making no sound fluttering
In the gentle seaward breeze

The sun has barely yawned
Or stretched out its long shadows
From empty deck chairs
Resting on uncountable pebbles

Sounds are limited to
The crunch of early feet
And a lone shout for a flat white
Echoing from the beach café

If heaven is a home improvement
On Beer beach, I can wait awhile
Baptised as I am in sunbeams
Dancing beneath the blue water

Or, floating, arms outstretched,
Flat-backed on the waves
Giving the cloud-dabbled sky
My whole attention; I’m no longer here