Hamnavoe dinghy

I spent most of Sunday on the shore a couple of miles past Stromness. Rock pools wete being left by the outgoing tide and they were like forests...dark green weed vertical and still as pines on a calm day.

There is a poem called 'World' by A.R. Ammons which came to mind. Under rocks were little fish; some kind of blenny I think.

On the way back to Stromness I photographed this dinghy. I like the shapes of them on the water, and they always have an air of being abandoned forever.