On a log

~ 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.

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2 thoughts on “On a log

  1. nectarfizz says:

    I can almost hear that damned gull..see what you started!!

  2. Matt says:

    Thanks, I quite like this one. I think it’s perhaps the –

    “…mixed cocktail
    of coloured sands.”

    Then again, I generally enjoy reading or writing of the sea.

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