Kynance Cove

Place of exquisite beauty;
we walk, then run, then climb
ever downwards
then pause to look at breathtaking views.
We've been here more than fifty times
but every trek is still worthwhile.
Steps grow ever steeper
until we land on fine, white sand
and scramble over boulders,
splendorous cliffs yawning overhead.
Kids run on in front,
keen to splash into the sea,
while their dad tries to locate
the best possible bit of beach.
I sit for a while on a boulder -  
strong, immovable and firm.
My fingers skim damp stones;
smooth and jagged, large and small.
They rest on one, warmed by the sun.
I pick it up.
Hard and still warm, it glows
red and green, with grey beneath
and shines in the summer sun.
Polished by millennia of crashing waves,
it resembles the gleaming snakeskin
from which it takes its name.
Serpentine.
And then I wonder:
how long has it been here?
Has this tiny stone been handled before,
or was it put here simply for my pleasure?
I feel simultaneously
present in the moment
and part of something far larger
as this little piece of history
connects me to generations gone before.
Thankful for this moment
and infinitesimal beauty,
I put it in my pocket and
I am ready to carry on my day.