Sitting Here On Wooden Pier

SITTING HERE ON WOODEN PIER Sitting here on wooden pier, Watching waves roll in Sea-weed on the drift to shore, The tide is on the turn, A pelican floating by; Searching, Searching, Forever searching, Looking for another feed. As Pandanus abound frequently, Summer is nearly here; The warmth from Sol above, Is indictive suggestive feeling Of long days around the corner. As small crustacean abounds about Leaving tracks and tell-tale signs; Of whereabouts in sand. Lonely sea-shell on tidal reach; Existence of feeling Of being all washed-up alone, Far from depths, it came, Maybe on another surge Carried far back out to sea. Faraway from home And on the beach, Corked in a bottle wrote; Message from another place, Message from another time. As seagulls squawk and squawk; Funny way they talk To one another when on the scrounge For any titbits found. And sitting here on wooden pier; I am in my element Enjoying what is here, Of sun, surf, and sand…. Francis Cooper – Mac © Feb 2019