The waves swell and with white tops crest,
then embraces shores upon its breast.
While high above birds in smooth flight pass,
In salute they tip their wings and sail away at last.
The sand it lives moves and breathes,
Yet is dead to destined passing ships.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
The waves swell and with white tops crest,
then embraces shores upon its breast.
While high above birds in smooth flight pass,
In salute they tip their wings and sail away at last.
The sand it lives moves and breathes,
Yet is dead to destined passing ships.
Request permission to use this poem