(Music from Doreen Carwithen’s ‘Suffolk Suite’. Shingle Street near Orford)
Always moving, turning with the tide
a place to breathe salt air
and a place to hide.
Like the desert grains of sand
pebbles glisten, washed and
laid upon the strand.
A million colours greet your eye
all polished by the sea
and left to dry.
Walking, crackling, we are caught
in a surf sound spell of
tumbling thought.
Nowhere quite like this I find
where stones and sea can
clear my mind.
Views abound without a limit
stretching thought and purifying my spirit.
Aware always of the ocean
building this beach in
constant motion.
Time like the daily tide
advancing to wash away all
foolish pride.
We humans, in nature’s power,
become her witnesses in this hour.
A stone, at my feet, catches my eye
pure white, like a cloud
up in the sky.
So delicate, its oval polish,
machine ground, would
us all astonish.
It does not need my glance
to speak its beauty, it is
not by chance.
But, repeated across the beach
nature’s profligate action is
beyond my reach.
Yet, I am given new grace
to see nature’s treasures
in this place.
United in a sea-spray song
I to the beach and
wind belong.