On A Beach Of The Wild-Coast Poem by Gert Strydom

It was sweltering hot on that white unspoilt beach
while everywhere there were great numbers of shells
as if this place had been untouched and unvisited by man.

They were fragile as flower petals, others hard as steel,
with embouchures that were tiny and sometimes twisted
in colours of blue, pink, blushing red, brown and white

with iridescence glimmering from the mother of pearl
while slender brown lines were like ancient hieroglyphics
written in an undecipherable language that nature understands

where I sat down to examine, to enjoy, to touch and experience
this treasure trove that was washed out from the depths of the sea
and thought-struck that afternoon trailed away into twilight

on one of the beaches of the Wild-Coast that streched out vastly away
and with the setting sun suddenly in that place I was not alone
some flamingos were pink-red flying past in the azure sky

and in the distance, you my wife, like a perfect sculpture was etched
against the setting sun with slim long legs, with round breasts and blonde
looking like a goddess while the shadows brought an enchantment to you

where you were picking up scallops and were intensely looking at them
and your movement reminded me of a crane or maybe an albatross or a heron
while in the now stronger twilight some of the shells were luminescent.

© Gert Strydom