Scenes from a Shoreline

by Tana Worcester



I follow my heart to the shoreline,
down paths turned to streams from fall showers,
to beach's edge where sand meets surf in a wash of chaos and creation.
Churning waves of turmoil resonate within
and distant tides pulse in my blood.

Plovers pace discarded piles of seaweed,
flocks that drift like whitecaps in the wind,
hoping seas will toss some tasty morsel to their waiting beaks.
Treasures hidden by the froth
will be revealed as surge recedes.

Rocks scattered like forgotten children on the sand,
dropped by glacier fathers, wait for ocean mother
to reclaim them in her watery embrace.
Their waiting's not in vain. As the ocean gains momentum,
her warming will expand to flood the coast.

Waves crashing on the weathered rocks
throw themselves with abandon and with joy,
yield to certain death, destruction with such glory and such faith.
Broken bodies born again in distant swells
are drawn once more to waiting shores.

The thundering of surf is almost deafening.
Whales call, un-orchestrated in the depths.
Echoes reverberate across vast and distant deep sea canyons.
Submerged melody, wrapped in mystery,
listen close for nuance in the noise.

As I walk back up the trail to where the stream begins,
my spirit thanks the sky for the wisdom of the sea.
I bid farewell to the place where beauty dwells and the homeland of my heart.
Washing through my veins, until I come again -
The ocean is the lifeblood of us all!



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