Posted by Expert Gadget Reviewer on Saturday, 12 February 2011


Watching him that spring-spilled-into-summer,
sat among Algar Seco’s jagged rocks,
steadfast with rod, tub of bait,

water, hunk of bread,
still and magisterial as a stork in its nest
settled above the walls of Silves,

I recovered what it was to wait –
content, not out of hope or faith
but for the catch that always comes;

a clutch of silver by dusk just as
us, stumbling onto the beach one night,
finding that added depth in each other’s eyes.

Ben Wilkinson