#596: Snowy Sconset

 Sconset sleeps in the winter.
Oh, there are folk here,
well-equipped for winter storms.
But they lay low, coming out
only to walk their dogs.
The Cliff walk is abandoned.

No movement on the beach.

Nor down in Codfish Park.

Drifting snow between cottages.

And up to the doors.

The water pump surrounded by whiteness.
Everything is still and silent.

Not even a flag to flap in the wind.

The flagpole has been removed for repair.
A tiny hand-held flag holds its place.

No swimming here.

Nor fishing.
Actually, this guy is out scalloping,
earning every penny of the $14 a pound 
he gets paid.

The glow of a street lamp
warms the heart.

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