On the curve of the grey, snaking road
Cut by slashes of yellow-
the colour of picture-raincoats
Out of place in the clear grey morning.

The bus kids saw it first;
pointing across the ashen waves-
murmuring, whispering, sullen waves-
floating face up in the brine.

Saw it and stopped,
staring and pointing
At some woman's grief,
Some child's lost shelter.

Hands up- as if he was trying
To hold on to the life that let him go.

And people all around, watching.
Pointing, talking, cameras out;
reporting from the scene.
And people all in a round.

A grey day, with a sullen sea.
A muttering, cheesecloth sea that spoke
Words, of human life that was
No more