The walls of water rise;
then plunge forward
with a swirl of foam and a roar;
a thunderous sound,
diminishing, coming meekly to kiss the sand
only to return for another round.
The waves move with all the force of nature;
the tides, by the command of the moon.
The beach is sandy;
soft and gritty.
Scattered white shells,
more broken than whole,
wink against it in the sun.
driftwood, bleached and gnarled
lies above the watermark.
The sounds of the shore are unique.
There is the rumble/hiss of the waves,
constantly coming in and going out,
unstoppable; hypnotic -
the squawk/shriek of shore birds
diving and soaring, intently watching.
Cantankerous, opportunistic thieves,
they crowd above the fishermen,
darting in to filch what they can.
The sky and sea come together.
They touch all along
the length of the horizon;
The sun glazes the surface of the sea;
turning it a molten gold.
Out past the breakers,
The sea looks deceptively calm.
in all her moods,
she captures our imagination;
We are drawn by the
eternal siren's call,
powerless to resist.
(c) Ellie Maziekien
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