looking out to sea

by Susan Hutchings

​What stories you must have to tell

What hidden tales of sorrow and joy

What indiscretions must be buried within

How many altercations have seeped into you

No control over what or whom you have sat with

A dull day interrupted by an inquisitive sniffing visitor

Nothing changes for you except the view

Sometimes you look out to murky brown

Sometimes to waving of arms and shrieks of joy

Often to a tufted head disappearing only to reappear

Occasionally to a whirring noise the air filled with blades

In winter dampness depicts your isolation, a wren darts 

Spring brings wafts of narcissi fragrancing your panels

Summer heralds a buzzing yellow blanket of bird’s foot trefoil 

Turning to look at the faded inscription punctuated by salt

In Memory of Carol Sully, who loved to sit at this spot

I know all of this mother; I am ingrained in your stained heart

Susan Hutchings is an emerging writer living in Minehead, UK. Her poems were shortlisted at Burnham Book Festival 2024 and 2025 and she is forthcoming in "O'er a' my labours sey your skill': Poetic Responses to Robert Fergusson," (Taproot Press). She enjoys exploring dark speculative themes and is surrounded by sea and beautiful haunting countryside, which inspire her writing.