Five men, in orangey yellow overalls,

using long handled rollers are painting

the paddling pool – which is the size of four

tennis courts – that blue which only colour charts

show or astronauts will see.  Beyond

is the limestone headland with rock-roses

amongst the scrub and fulmars nesting.

Far out to sea is a gathering,

stately and serried, of white, wind turbines.

I think of David Hockney’s iconic pools,

and of Robert Rauschenberg’s ‘Combines’ –

hybrids of sculpture and paint  – and his ‘Jammers’ –

unvarnished poles and coloured canvas.

Uniformed artisans – artificers

of the imagination – these painters

each year layer this surreal blue. Sea water

fades it, and tiny feet.