Spring Sea March
I watch the sea unfurl
And shore stretch, painting
The sand with foam fingers.
Rearranging the pebbles
With each pulse and break.
And wind-topped white horses
Ride the sea in great gallops,
The final play of winter.
I stand in the dawn light and
Welcome the rising tides of March,
Sea-change from dull-grey to bottled-green.
Spring waves with new warmth as
Winter ebbs to the north current.
Cold soaks into the empty shore
Buried deep until autumn's return,
Replaced by a hopeful sun, emergent.
I watch the birds swoop and sing,
Spring coast waits its Terns,
Kittiwakes and Guillemots,
Cliff perched in riotous crowds.
The wave bobbers and sea bombers,
Watching the beach horizon from afar.
Carried by the south currents
And feeling the warmth on their backs.
I stand as the first sunrise of spring
Marches skyward, a parabola of hope.
Casting gentle shadows over the sand
And damp pebbles reflect my happiness.
The water wraps itself around my ankles
And I feel its urgent tug, cold still.
The sea rarely warms itself to the task,
But the sun will bear witness to a happy Spring.
And warmth will return.
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A Poem a Day Day 61/365
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