Beach Walk, Evelyn J. Steward [finding audrey .txt] 📗

Beach Walk


One lonely afternoon on Winter's edge,
A wind is blowing, gale-force at my back.
I wander to the shore, the sand-blown sedge,
And watch the yachts a-turning on the tack.

The gulls, they dive and hang upon the wind.
Their white wing feathers spread, in search of fish.
And as the Tern flies, scrabble for a find.
The Tern's eggs are an easy breakfast dish.

The surf comes crashing, waves against the sand,
And flotsom litters pebbled beach and shore.
I smell the salty seaweed in my hand.
I listen to the seabird's mournful caw.

The broken shells that crunch beneath my feet,
Are empty of the life that once they hid.
I gather one or two that lay complete,
The blue black mussel - cockle with a lid.

A piece of driftwood, thrown up with the tides.
A salty timber, torn from off some wreck.
Down in the deep, this ancient ship abides
And sailor's bones now walk the sunken deck.

I feel the wind abating, as I turn
And head up to the cliff-top, high above.
I stoop to gather heather and green fern,
A wild bouquet to take home to my love.

Tomorrow's sky will turn again to blue
And gentle zephyrs tame the ocean's swell.
The grey clouds up above will change their hue.
The rocking bouy will still its clanging bell.

When I return, as come again I must,
To gaze upon the waters of the Bay,
I'll marvel and I'll wonder at the trust
Of each an every sailor in his day.

For I would not upon the ocean tread,
To wrench a bounty - like the fisher band.
To ride the ocean's squalls, fills me with dread,
So I must stay content upon the land.


© Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. November, 1994.

Publication Date: 02-14-2012

All Rights Reserved