Waves
Tiny baby waves
Come gently to the shore
Lick shyly
And recede
My toes wait
For the gentle lapping
Rearrange tiny shells that lie near
Attempt to take all out to sea
On another day
The waves come to shore
Like the beating of a drum
Pound the shore
As if to punish
And rush back to sea
And then there are waves
That belong to the storm
They tower over everything in sight
Destroy what they will
Not a good day for swimming
April 3, 2018
9 comments:
We went in a similar direction with the waves. And still ended up in two different places. Thanks for joining in,
Elizabeth
The changing nature of waves. The beach is different every single time. I love that about it. Beautiful, Annell.
Thanks for reminding us that some waves belong to the storm, some to the toes. Lovely piece!
Anf how fascinating they are, in all their moods.
'and then there are waves that belong to the storm' ~~ i love this line, Annell.
Nature (and living) requires open eyes... and watched feet.
Fine, Annell. I would never have imagined a poem about the kinds of waves. Very clever, you told it nicely. We live fairly close to the Beach of the Gulf Coast. Next time at the beach I'll think of this. One time the got into our house with a 32 inches of water record. The big sister of waves, the tides helped with Tropical Storm Claudette.
..
You can't set your toes to the same waves twice can you!!!
much love...
I love waves belonging to the storm. Lovely piece, Annell.
Love,
Pamela
Post a Comment