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by Sharmagne Leland-St. John Wattle fence trembling in March's sea breeze. The quietude… Not a gull in sight, no ghosts of summer's brightly coloured umbrellas, no sandcastles, or dogs yipping, no Frisbees, no debris. No vendors hawking trinkets, kikoys and sloganed beach towels to tourists who just want to relax and be left alone. No scent of Bain de Soleil floating on the air. No footprints along the shoreline. Unpeopled and still. The solitude reminds me of what a beach in heaven must be like. Pristine and peaceful a space all to myself where I can watch the wisps of clouds navigate the winter sky.
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