Ebb Tide
EBB TIDE
We’d had an angry tearful spat
Don’t remember over what:
Stormed out of house down to beach.
Needed to clear my mind
For a few moments out of his reach:
Sniff air, breeze, spray - unwind.
Afternoon ebb tide girl -
Slow swash of rollers: break and curl
Of sand-filled muddy-brown swells,
Remnants of soapy foam, scummy rubble,
Shallow rattle of empty shells;
Cold slow plop of pebbles,
Where the furious morning breakers had died
Among the the rising billows’ wet tide,
Assaulting the dry beach,
Hurling mud and packed sand
And hard little stones up the reach
At the cliff beyond the strand.
Sweeping all the gravel over the lee,
On the smooth flat strand the shallow sea
Healed the wet beach: glassy shine -
Clear, cleansed, soothed with balm.
My heelprints filled quick and quiet with brine,
As I turned for home, calm.
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