by Jon Coe

Created on: June 15, 2008

Swell of salty water, gathering speed
rising high, with thrust it hits, the shore
Everyone at water's edge, take heed
between the toes, the sand holds, no more

Seashells running, seaweed wet, again
tide inching in, ebbing out, or dormant, for a while
Seagulls gliding, crest of waves, refrain
ships on far horizon, sailboats, calmly while

Prickly, pointed, sharp stones, under foot
hot sand, oven beach, dusty residue, on heels
washed up debris, lapping where tide put
star fish lullaby, plankton sea life reels

Drift wood drifting, sculptures waiting
sandy mountains, sand dune grasses lay
fishermen trawling, catching, baiting
the moon keeps the key, balancing sway

At water's edge, horizons round the world
at edge of land, where rocks are chipped, refined
finely ground and sifted, sand paper, pearled
this beach upon I walk, where balance is defined

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