The Sea

On the shore, by the sea washed to show its bones Under foot where rivers seep the children ran on stones The air like casstenettes deep from sand blown hills Gentle breath over winter land grey sky filled with gulls On the high tide fringe driftwood lay bleached dry Cold in death a body lies where gulls now sweep and cry They stop to look awhile wind blowing about wild hair Just a moment in their world a moment to stop and stare