Talks With The Sea
Talks With The Sea
Can I really trust you I ask ?
Just out of reach of your foamy fingers
stories dying in mariners' throats
you claim still as your own.
And do you mull and tell or ever feel
the need to share their
drowned and stunted wisdom,
their bright futured hope,
their lovers' quickened sighs.
Fair your shingled gurgled laugh
and fairer yet your wind tossed plume
when juggling you perform,
your calm and strong backed sunset skin.
Sometimes in your briny blood we dance
when dry and gritty air
drives us to your summer palace.
A venerable family friend you are
with loving whispers in your teeth
when straggling cousin,
your tide caressing moon
draws us to a treacherous edge
with unfit partner.
I spin gloriously
in your best and bountiful neighbourhood
I cry in your rock pools for a nearness to God,
fall as a child into your cool limbed embrace
and trust you will be fair.
And what think you of me ,
if ever behind your sad eyed face you do ?
A fellow sojourner perhaps
or just another stolen story,
trust corralled,
with which to feed the hungry fish
your teeming henchmen.
