Watching him that spring-spilled-into-summer,
sat among Algar Seco’s jagged rocks,
steadfast with rod, tub of bait,
water, hunk of bread,
still and magisterial as a stork in its nest
settled above the walls of Silves,
I recovered what it was to wait –
content, not out of hope or faith
but for the catch that always comes;
a clutch of silver by dusk just as
us, stumbling onto the beach one night,
finding that added depth in each other’s eyes.
Ben Wilkinson’s poems and reviews have appeared in UK and international publications including Poetry Review, The Guardian, The Spectator, The Manhattan Review and the TLS. He was shortlisted for the inaugural Picador Poetry Prize.