At land’s end And at the ocean’s edge On the frontier I dwell, Flooded by the roar And fullness of tide, But unmoved.
I am my own world With my own life.
Shell grit and the black shale Are my fundament, Dark as the mystery of Being.
Above, the soft grasses wave Like aspirations Reaching for the sun, And small fish fly Free as thought Through the clear cool fluidity.
The world of a rock pool: All the beauty and wonder of Myself.
|
Poems >