About this poem:

This is about the moment, 20+ years after last being in the sea, when I followed the sudden urge, in spite of wearing a long floaty skirt, to run into the waves up to my waist. What I thought was a bobbing log, about 20 ft away, turned out to be a seal, silently watching me. We just gazed at each other for what seemed like an age, but was really only seconds. I love these creatures, and the legends surrounding them. Perhaps the "I" of the poem is a seal woman who came ashore to shed her skin and dance, as in the folk tales, but for whom it is not yet time to return to her watery home. Or perhaps she is a mermaid who earned her legs (the sequins on the skirt recalling her scales). Or perhaps there simply Are moments when humans and animals connect deeply.
I don't have a title yet, but I dedicate it to my wonderful friend, who was like a father to me, and who was with me that day, about eight years ago, on Tentsmuir beach. He died two years ago, and I think he knew better than I that it was not my time to follow.