Mill Creek

A little ways north of Mill Creek
the beach runs round
to a single wide arcing swath

Where the tide stems landward in shattered segments
fast against the open mouth
of sea and sand and barnacle

There is also a cliff near the free stone rising
above the under-base of a million waves
throttling a darkened face

Somewhere out of sight
from landlocked eyes
salt water still churns

And churns for a million years
oblivious to the damage
inflicted on the crumbling mass

It's as if the big bass drum 
of agonies from time immemorial
strums a one note dirge

And thereby summons the shelving mist
to curtail the pitiful death
from the tired eyes of a dumbfounded poet

Who loiters in the wet hiss
like a reporter in search of tragedy
and finding none, returns to home
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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Pigeon Tart Avatar
December 19, 2017 at 2:23 PM
I love your poet's eye! It is a pleasure to meet you Ward, welcome to the soup! :) mo
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