Coquillage again

The sun has come out now, but it was chilly first thing when LoJ and C were queueing for mussels in my one street.

A draft poem:

One street Saturday

Delivery: two kilos of coquillage
served with laughter, coming
from the lagoon's early chill
to the grey village morning
where the white shell lifts
to reveal bright crates
in yellow and green, sharp
grey oysters rough in their heaps
next to clams, each one a different
rainbow mix of lines and colours,
and mussels shining blue-black
in the light, rings of growth
like trees marking their ageing
in cold clean salt waters.

© TW