Beadnell Bay

The waves are not kind to the shore
From their gentle lapping to their booming crashing
Rocks lie helpless, ground to oblivion on the sea floor
On this day I survey the gentle storm
The family playing; children’s faces awash with giggles
The old and sprightly who walk here nightly
I watch, I watch the ordinary folk, the sea like me, does not care
It ebbs, it flows, it crashes and bows, no pep talk no inner fire
Relentless is the H the two and the O
Uncaring, unburdened by neither purpose nor motivation
Dancing with mere humanity is not rest nor vacation
A car speeds by, children screaming, metal creaking with cheap repair
Each wave snarls its disapproval, the sea grumbles and the heavens prepare
Prams and mothers scurry like ants and crabs seeking shelter
Families collect and scuttle, rocks brace for Poseidon is never fair
Nor Neptune gracious like the old that shuffle as fast as they dare
My cove is quiet, dark and rumbling is the stillness there
In my bay, waiting, light fading, tense neither day or night, just waiting
My bay and I turn and brace, by God’s grace, pray to see another day

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