This is a beach

that few discover.

Unsigned, a secret

down a branching lane,

green at its approach with mossy

trees and hart’s tongue fern,

a vast sea odour heralds it,

waves whispering behind.

The foreshore breathes magic.

Waders seem tame. A wisp

of cloud blurs the bewitching

symmetry of Ailsa Craig.

Culzean Castle gleams atop its cliff,

ochre, primrose, and old gold.

The wooded slopes shiver

with wind and birdsong.