This winter’s first hint of a hard wind
helped a half-dead sea haul herself,
gasping, out of puff and thinly sprawled
onto the sea-front road,
collapsed, having crawled
over the new sea-wall,
her white breath expiring
in sizzling little bubbles.


And she lay there,
waiting for the next old wave
to clamber on her back,
getting its wet fingertips
that one inch further.

And as she lay,
she listened
to distant sisters huffing
and hitching their skirts,
freely running over grasses
at the far edges of town.


22 thoughts on “SeaMare

  1. Ok you took me to the thrashing sound of the beach over the coastal town… though we dont have much of cold here but then I have seen the sound of frrrissh… happenning all over… and your word play on the waves and the sister coming on to each other in playful form.. is beautiful.


    ॐ नमः शिवाय
    Om Namah Shivaya
    At twitter @VerseEveryDay

  2. I recently moved to an island in the Pacific Northwest and every morning I walk down to the beach with my dog. On many wintry days I see those horses chasing each other’s tails like (Loch Ness) Nessies in a propagation frenzy, going mad in Puget Sound, and this poem perfectly describes what I see and hear. You take the equine metaphor and make it work so well.

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