It is always the sea that beckons,
Always waiting for every return!
Going home is to go back-
To feel the sand and the sound,
The light and the shadow,
The motion and stillness
Of the abundance that is the sea.
The siren call of the Arabian Sea
Starts with the low murmur and rumble
Of the gentle waves and splashes
Cresting to the crescendo
Of the lashing and crashing
Of the monster waves of the Monsoon.
The sea calls me every time
And she waits for me every time,
Cocksure that I will make the time,
Time and time again,
Every chance I was given!
I picked my way gingerly
Over the edgy rocks of the sea wall,
A recent creation to ward off the sea
That keeps creeping forward.
The sand was still there, diminished,
Allowing the tree line to close in!
Did the trees move
Or the excess sea water
Of an unwanted universal heat
Extend its borders?
Sandals were so cumbersome
That I tossed them away with abandon
And splayed my toes into the dry sand
And let the grains trickle through
To feel the delight of little touches.
But, that is not enough!
The salty brine is still waiting
To splash and soak and dampen.
I inched forward
In delectable longing.
Ah, the first touch is always novel!
The froth swirled around the toes
To wink away abashed
While the salty breeze caressed
And fondled the sun-kissed cheeks.
High tide is coming…
I ventured, yes.
I slowly stepped forward
And dug my waiting toes into the wetness.
The waves rushed in and wavered
And receded in haste,
As if ashamed to go any further
And regretting the forward boldness .
But, my soles and heels dug in,
Not to falter in the hasty back-flow
Of the roiling sea.
The air was heavy with salt and moisture
And was scented with the briny damp.
My clothes clung to me, waterlogged and salty,
Abrading with the cluster of grainy sand.
Foamy crests rose higher and higher
And the water rushed up the sand
Trimmed with lacy froth on scalloped edges.
There were shrieks in the beach
When the water sucked the sand
From under the feet and tried
To topple the upright onlookers
Struggling for a foot-hold.
The waves rose with shimmering crests
That sprayed and spewed in reckless abandon,
Settling down to simmering motion
That glittered in the slanted rays
Of the descending sun.
The day is waning and nearing closure
While the slanted rays of a westward sun
Garnished the waters in pearly tints
That outshone the reds and purples,
The gold and orange, the salmon and shell pink.
The riotous hues marveled in their abundance
And bathed the sea and the sand
While the golden globe transformed
From fiery ball to red orange
And began to cast a pall over the beach
While dipping lethargically
Into the clean circular end,
Finally to submerge completely,
Leaving just the debris of the light
In meager portions to outline the people
Who were leaving, desolate in their loss
Of the glory of the sunset.
Another day has come and gone
And the pall is lifted from my heart
As I thrilled at the magnificence
That the sea has showered
And the sun has shared!
Day is done!
Oh, that is wonderful! I love the sea as well. In the fall on our trips to Cape Cod, I do the same… walk into the waves, with my pant legs rolled up and feel the sand move under my feet. It always makes me smile. You have captured my feelings as well. Thank you for your wonderful writing. Liz
Thank you for being my only reader.