Perched On Beauty Poem by Alan Strand

I sit way up here
In my lofty perch
Along this jagged west coast
Under low, thick clouds
Watching the peaceful rollers
Come slowly onto shore,
Breaking rhythmically
And churning up the sandy beach
Where solid rock once stood.

Breaking, splashing, swirling,
The sounds of the cold salt water
Alive, mesmerizes me
As the backwash
Futilely tries to resist
The next gentle wave train-
A relentless oceanic action
That has washed
This kelp-strewn beach
Since the dawn of time.

The scene is dull but not lifeless
For the chirping of the birds and chipmunks
Sweetly pierce the crashing crescendo
Of the eternal onslaught of waves.

Trails of foam stream down the sand
Exposing pebbles, well-washed
And smoothly worn,
From their rightful place
On this deserted beach.

It’s a timeless process
That’s hard to fathom
From the mere mortal’s perspective.

I ponder the interconnectedness
Of all things physical,
Unfolding as they should
Throughout the entire universe
In strict accordance to the laws of nature.

But what of the ways of the heart?

Is Fate so bound by duty
As to deliver us to our ultimate destination,
A second at a time,
Helplessly,
And apparently aimlessly
Like a small grain of sand,
A tiny piece of rock,
Rolling in the swirling surf
On an isolated strand of sand?

Sea stacks jut out brazenly
From wave- and wind-whipped prominences-
Silent stone sentinels
Which make harsh quarters
For the few hearty pines
That strive to grow upward,
Seemingly for the sole benefit
Of the vigilant eagles’ need
To sit in quiet quarantine
Above it all,
Like I do now.

I try to peer past
The lazy, hazy horizon
And wonder when the winter storms
Will pound my roost
With angry abandon.

But for now
The deep, dark green seas
Are fairly placid.
Kelp beds readily roll
With each incoming crestless wave,
Riding the perpetual roller coaster of energy
Driven by the sun,
Although it is blanketed
By massive, sullen clouds
That refuses to allow the triumph
Of the remarkably sublime beauty of the bay
To shine through.

I close my eyes and think of you.
I hear your voice whispered
On the breath of the ocean.

(For April,2000/10/22, Brady’s Beach, Bamfield.)