Soul Thirst Quench
In draining sand I trace the line
the tide has made in bubbles, fine,
where scalloped wavelets sloped in foam,
halt the ocean’s wide roiling roam.
Pale seashells shimmer in bright sun
and tiny crabs sport sideways run;
whitecaps dancing, turquoise to green,
toss at my feet a glossed sea bean.
Solitude, loved quiet and calm,
give to my weary soul sweet balm.
The mornings that I stroll the beach
seem like heaven slips into reach;
I pause to rest on driftwood bench
drink in the sea, my soul thirst quench.
Copyright, August 21, 2016
Faye Lanham Gibson
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