Phil Hall

The timeless waves crash against the desolate beach,
Haunted cries of the gulls, hanging in a lonely wind.
As sand whips around my feet plumes of reeds guide my eyes.
The pink horizon holding memories of an ancient mariner’s tale.
Each breath invigorates my soul with peace from this world,
The muffled applause of sea and shingle, constant and steady.

With no one to share this feast of spindrift and salty spray,
Stinging my face and eyes with each playful stroke.
My face is raised to the life giving spume of Hyperion’s breath.,
Then hand circling on the carpet of glistening sand.
Dunlin and Knot race to and fro’ before the surf,
The trial of life gives play for a taste of the oceans fruit.

Lonely sea, cold sea, steely resolute friend and foe,
Thought invoking, soul refreshing, invigorating sea.
The much travelled winds arms wrapped around me,
I roam past boats long since abandoned.
Their paint ageing pastel by sea and sun, flaking slowly.
With bones of crab pots stacked in disarray,

Where bladder wrack dried black, lies tangled in nets.
Sand dunes flow like a dry sea in a world of secretive shallow.
They stretch along the coast, giving echo to the surf.
As i stand with an ear to the curlews impassioned cry,
Eons have passed since man first stepped from the ocean.
But, like the gull and the wave, I’ll be drawn back evermore.

Phil Hall may 2012