Staithes, April 2015

[1] We are peppered from on high in audacious cascades stone flecks from the cliff face [2] Sheltered by the lifeboat station's charity shop, we hear an anecdote of a Tory councillor who said a village path, though dark as coal, needed no streetlights: ‘just let your eyes adjust’ [3] Insurgency of waves fomenting at the cliff's haughty toe, energies dispersing— High tide is past. Kittiwakes snatch crabs from surf.

Pete Green