The Sound of the Sea
Its salt-wet voice calls out to you and me,
A rolling hymn that keeps the open sea.
White-fingered foam writes letters on the sand,
Then folds them soft into an open hand.
Bells of shell and gull in twilight swell,
They toll the names the wandering waves will tell.
Moon-skimmed ripples weave a silver net,
Catching wishes lovers never quite forget.
The deep drums steady, measured as before,
Its heartbeat counts the years and gives them more.
It sings of leaving, and it sings of home,
A tide that teaches every soul to roam.
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