The Beach

I find the beach stimulating, energizing
especially when
the tide swathes the shoreline, caressing
the pebbles with its foaming softness.

There is something basic - almost primaeval
following the line of the shore eyes scanning
the debris left behind – hoping for
a relic from a time gone by.

Today, was beautiful with soft low sunlight
across the water Criffel 600 metres high, mist

 topped dressed and proud of Scottish birth.

Advancing along the beach
I heard the oystercatchers huddled in large noisy groups
jostling one and all for prime position, with their long
orangey-red beaks poised waiting
for the tide to turn.
Soon all would dine well, dabbing the
fresh wet sand for their tasty afternoon meal.

There are times I arrive at the beach chewing
over some niggle –
a tennis match thrashing back and forth
inside my head.
As soon as my feet hit the sand all is forgotten.
It's hard to stay grieved as the vastness
and the beauty of this
ever-changing place hits the senses.
Governed by the moon, it's clock, time
lined and regular, fighting always for its survival.
Of what importance then, my silly woes of worry

Yes, my walk was good today – tomorrow
well, tomorrow

You will find me there once more…