Listen to poem:
Swell
The swell is rising,
furrowing the brow of seascape,
forewarning of storm arising.
Sheer bliss for surfers,
toil and trouble incising
ferment and foreboding
on sailor's foreheads, glistening,
with the spray and froth flung
from wave-top manes breaking,
off from white horses on the bay prancing.
24 September 2019
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