Every day I inch closer to the crumbling cliffs and listen, hoping the waves will whisper their secrets – shifting songs of selkies, cathedrals of kelp, turtle maps and sea stars, mariners and wrecks.
But the sea keeps stubborn silence, hurling itself at the cliff with tight-lipped tenacity.
Only later, as a tumbling face of rock shears clear and shatters the roiling spume, do I realise the waves are telling me all I need to know. For what more sustains life than
a sprinkling of salt
and the determination to throw
yourself at the same cliff time
and again until