Spring Sea March

Spring Sea March

I watch the sea unfurl

And shore stretch, painting

The sand with foam fingers.

Rearranging the pebbles

With each pulse and break.

And wind-topped white horses

Ride the sea in great gallops,

The final play of winter.

I stand in the dawn light and

Welcome the rising tides of March,

Sea-change from dull-grey to bottled-green.

Spring waves with new warmth as

Winter ebbs to the north current.

Cold soaks into the empty shore

Buried deep until autumn's return,

Replaced by a hopeful sun, emergent.

I watch the birds swoop and sing,

Spring coast waits its Terns,

Kittiwakes and Guillemots,

Cliff perched in riotous crowds.

The wave bobbers and sea bombers,

Watching the beach horizon from afar.

Carried by the south currents

And feeling the warmth on their backs.

I stand as the first sunrise of spring

Marches skyward, a parabola of hope.

Casting gentle shadows over the sand

And damp pebbles reflect my happiness.

The water wraps itself around my ankles

And I feel its urgent tug, cold still.

The sea rarely warms itself to the task,

But the sun will bear witness to a happy Spring.

And warmth will return.

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A Poem a Day Day 61/365