The gulls fly inland crying tales of the sea. They draw misty tears from towers of clouds. Dog on the sofa speaks in her sleep.
Up shines the sun, up shows fingerprints on windowpanes, grandchild sized. Where those dishes came from; crumbed and sullied; is a mystery.
Pale things stir soapy in the washing machine.
Indoors, dark fabrics air on clotheshorses, on the backs of chairs. Work trousers hang from a bookshelf.
Outdoors, sentimental rain falls on a pegged wetsuit.