Let sleeping dogs lie

My mood can only be described as melancholy. This past wee while hasn’t been great.
Today we visited some friends in nearby New Aberdour. This is their old dog. Sorry, I can’t remember his name. The dog, not our friend.
After that we bought some chips from the van parked at the car park, and drove down to the beach to eat them well some of them. They weren’t good at all.
I took a wee walk along the seashore where the gentle, lapping waves caused me to own this poem:

Aberdour

A mere 7 miles, give or take
From our house, lies serenity.
Down county, country roads
Getting thinner, getting there
Is the beach
Silence only broken by the sound of the water
As it seemingly,indecisively,
Goes in and out.
Never sure which action to take.
Wild campers, with their vans and tents,
leave no mess.
Just remnants of fires created.
With stones, borrowed from the shore,
Forming a rough circle to hold the embers within.
Litter gathered up and placed in the bins.

Stones that diminish in size,
The closer they are to the water’s edge
From large to almost sand.
All colours and shapes
And cool to touch.
The gentle, lapping water pays no heed to them
The wash is the same,
Calm and soothing
Even in the place where ancient stone forms almost an underwater road
Smoothed out by millennia of cold, north facing waters.
Where orcas pass.
Frolicking out at sea.
Not visible today,
From this spot.

I walk a short distance after eating food from a van
In the village up the hill
The food, unfinished, was not good
But my mood stayed calm as seabirds bobbed about a little way offshore
Others gathered on outcrops
As if daring the tide to disperse them.
Not today though.
The Firth was enjoying the sunshine
Peacefully lapping in the bay.
“ I could stay here,” I thought
And I am sure the drift had the same idea.
Ebb and eddy: eddy and ebb
Being kind enough to not wet my shoes.
Perhaps sensing my mood.

The time had come when I had to leave
And although the evening sunshine still made everything glow
I had to go.
Return to where I had parked.
Leaving the littoral behind
Where limpet shells are outnumbered by dried, seaweed snakes
I alighted the soft, oceanfront, grass bank
With tufts of wildflowers ,
and over the man made bridge
Under which a casual stream flowed on its journey away from land
Passed the honesty box that requested ,’£10 for caravans; to help with the upkeep of the area.’
Got into my car,
And headed home.