I think they’re mocking me now.

they’re just

layers of flat, foamy trepidation;

spread wide,

sweeping slowly over the sand,

under my shoes

and fizzing out into the air.

There’s no wind to whip them into shape

nothing to provoke the water,

just eyes skimming over the surface

and the crack of thunder overhead.

Are these the same swells

that cut teeth out of the cliff face?

That raged

and beat the shore into retreat?

Does any of that fury

still remain?

The waves do not answer.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here

but the longer

I stare

the further out they pull me…

It’s not until my scarf whips up into my face

and the sky is dark

and my socks are wet

that I realise something has changed.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.