thunder

by peterbowes on August 24, 2016

The south coast forests, the blackly hidden reefs that only bristle up twice a year, the thickly bearded old boys who say they knew you in 1965, the dark rum in winter, the island at 10 foot and so cold the oyster farmers keep their fires lit all night, the fabulous quiet of winter at daybreak, the tension of sound between the thunder of distant sets.