I live far from the sea. But as a boy, I spent regular holidays with my grandparents in Eastbourne, on the south coast of England.
The sea always drew me in and I would stand for hours throwing pebbles into the waves, listening to the crunch of the pebble beach, smelling the salt on the breeze and watching stormy waves crash over the bandstand and into the pier.
But a couple of things always struck me.
The waves were endless, there was no on off, stop start and the sea always seemed to be any colour; except blue.
Look to the sea
Always changing always the same
A rhythmic beat pounding sanded beach
With infinite relentlessness
Waves spill carelessly
Pebbles scattered pushed then pulled
Water reluctantly receding
Swallowed by returning wave
Time flows as tides come then go
Sea calm, quiet in tranquil serenity
Or raging, tempestuous and spiteful
Before stilled and spent of force
Sea grey sea green ne'er blue
Nature's palette dulled and cold
Brushed strokes of whitened foam
Painted in watercolours ill defined