Pebble

In the photo I am sitting on a beach,
my hands held wide at shoulder height.
I’m looking up –
the pebble I’ve thrown pauses above my head.

My upturned face shows I expect it back
like a dog with a stick.
Pebble, child, beach are caught in a moment’s light.
What runs through my head?

The sea is behind me. Under my spread legs
is shingle and over my shoulder a dark rock.
A green seaweed smell leaks out of the picture
into this quiet room

as if time had stopped, the pebble stuck in the air.
But the child on the beach has no doubts
and waits with trusting hands
...