gelid ripples of the rising tide swirl slowly around rusted struts that rear above a grey-brown sunless sea they bear aloft a child of Aphrodite’s isle where long-remembered sunshine gleams in bubbles on the sizzling surface in a row of deep-fat fryers (extra-virgin olive oil deflowered sixty years ago) should the lovely child of Zeus set dainty foot upon this snowy beach she’d shriek and leap back to her shell and leave the pleasures of the winter coast to those of us whose frames are hardened to the eastern winds that saw our birth

GPH01: "Winter’s Snow by Cleethorpes Pier"

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