The long Bent Shore

Shivers of waves whisper and rasp
secret words on the long shore
bending away to where
my feet tread lightly
in the harder wet sand
shaded darker.

All moving and shifting
with the mesmerising arc
of the moon.

Turning a rock into an island
for a Cormorant to stand on
wings outstretched,
and drying slowly
in the ripples of the air.

Then the stars come out
and all is calm and silvery

Till the last word of the day is spoken
in a dusky cry
as the seagull flies on
toward the dawn.

Carl John Barber
October 2017

-Click title for video: The Long Bent Shore



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