Black Pebble

So black you carry reflections
in place of shells’ echoes.
So flat you could be still water;
that lake at night.
Far off from your shoreline,
a tiny boat.
Surely, you must have braved
wilder seas than these,
to have gained such smoothness.
Looming there, the grey shadow
perhaps of Seascale.
Myself, I prefer to believe it
the quiet rising
of a child’s submarine   
from the slow deeps,
where seagulls fly within you.


Sarah James