- by the sea,
I watched waves
turn towards a cove,
brush in sweeps
smaller and smaller,
til they dissolved
in a mixed cocktail
of coloured sands.
They left only
those driftwoulds behind
with the echoes
of fishermens’ dialects,
would be knots,
and word lines to call
back to white foam
beginning.
The shore, a seat
that would be reassembled
as the evening tide
to continue homewards.
