Ocean World

Today, the wind's offshore,

the sea is flat.

A child has made a pile of sand

and smoothed its wall,

adorned it with a flag.

Transparent wavelets lap at our feet

tentatively roll a bright green strand of weed

to be left here, a mark of this high tide.

Others will push the tide line further up

and further still when onshore winds bring waves

that fly with greater energy

on long white wings until they meet

the sharp sword edge of sand

white feathers whispering to the shining grain

and when the air decides to show her power

on those grey days when dark clouds scud and roll

and waves, deep green

gape with wide open mouths before the savage bite

that shifts sand, breaks rocks

rattles and crashes on the round brown stones

until it passes, and the Sun casts light on coruscating scales

the wind makes playful patterns once again

and now you show your colours

green turquoise purple silver blue and gold

and your rich textures riffled by gentle touch

or dark blue cats paws smearing as they turn.

or there a complex swirl where the waves worry at a rock

love-child of water and stone

a tracery that flashes and is gone and then returns.

Infinite appearances, changing, unchanging

in all the evolution seen by Earth in four thousand

thousand thousand years since you arrived

oozed out of solids, smashed in from endless sky

enough to puddle oceans on the wrinkled rock

since when you hold a mirror

to the sky and clouds

Changing One,

Giver of Life, along with Light, Earth, Air and Time

showing that self-same face in ancient time as now,

the changing unaltered feature of a changing world

infinite faces of the one great Deep.

Surface of an inner space

the place of whales and clouds of minute life

and all that can be in between.

Slow, dark and endless, where we can fly

with that silver disc above

signalling that interface where we can breathe

the tiny surface of one Depth.

Dark, swelling slowly, breathing in our heat

rising to sink this beach

collapse that man-size, earthen cliff

licking its softness easily away

tasting the plastic, bright as a child's toy

break every boundary with power enough

to turn our seaside dream to matchwood,

to a rubbish tip.

Not vengeful, just a being that observes the Laws.

As we must all, even though

at times we may show mastery

dancing the dance of mayflies in our little day

our self-made castle washed away

leaves nothing but a dent upon the sand

maybe a memory...

(c) Richard Lawson

February 2018

Churchill