Under the bleached bluff
sea shells shape the bay
the grey and white
like seagulls
shines in sun
each tuft of grass is hardy
rough
tousled by sudden wafts
of salty gusts
that ride the waves towards the land
where
free as air
the litter flies across the sands
swung in the sky
the birds are tossed
their cries
those far off saddened screams
that make the coast their theme
a contrast to the balmy days
when summer winds are warm
and breeze
a welcome sense of calm
the tide comes in
now challenging
its rattle of those shells
percussion in the out of doors
a band that takes repeats
encores
for granted
while it roars
until the change relieves its chores
receding back again
to join the great wide ocean main
Margaret Ann Waddicor 25th December 2015
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 6:14 AM UTC
Under the bleached bluff
sea shells shape the bay
the grey and white
like seagulls
shines in sun
each tuft of grass is hardy
rough
tousled by sudden wafts
of salty gusts
that ride the waves towards the land
where
free as air
the litter flies across the sands
swung in the sky
the birds are tossed
their cries
those far off saddened screams
that make the coast their theme
a contrast to the balmy days
when summer winds are warm
and breeze
a welcome sense of calm
the tide comes in
now challenging
its rattle of those shells
percussion in the out of doors
a band that takes repeats
encores
for granted
while it roars
until the change relieves its chores
receding back again
to join the great wide ocean main
Margaret Ann Waddicor 25th December 2015
I felt like feeling by the sea.
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