High Tide
I sat and watched the sea for hours,
The tidal waters rising higher,
Ignored inconsequential showers
To watch the white and height of spray,
To see the swell and surge of green,
To comprehend a friend’s display
Of innate power and beauty, seen
When moon and wind and beach conspire.
No gentle zephyr’s playful touch
When south and east converge and mingle.
Squealing and squalling overmuch
With roars and cheers in every gust
To urge the waves, to lift them tall
Across the beach in final thrust,
To vent their spleen against the wall,
And then retreat in a shush of shingle.
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