Look out through the camper door,
Past the sleeping dog on the floor.
In pools formed by rocky sill,
Picking through the bladder-wracks,
Waders there are feeding still,
Turning crabs o'er on their backs.
On gaudy legs over the grassy lawn,
An oystercatcher struts in sunlit dawn.
With urgent stabs of beak so strong,
He probes deep into the sward.
Gripping fast on a worm so long,
He earns his just reward.
Another day, a later time,
The sea is edged with frosty rime.
Lapwings roost on hills above,
While screeching gulls head out to sea.
So put the kettle on, my love,
For now it's time for tea.
As evening draws on into night,
The starry sky's a wondrous sight.
Foam-flecked waves beat on the shore
With tidal currents running deep.
The stormy gales around us roar
But rock us in our sleep.
In its proper spot beside the sea
A camper-van's the place to be.
Watch the birds go flying by,
Then take their ease on rocks so proud,
Before soaring high into the sky
Away beyond that distant cloud.
