Tidal Reach. Poem by Fay Slimm

Rumblings of falling waves, ever tumbling
Into sound. Perpetual shaping makes
Ocean's mission, which grindingly crumbles
Granite into sand, astounding. Creates
Milled gems, smooths rocks to shiny pebbles round
Which sea-moss clings. The labour of the thing
Brings brightness to whitest shells, which abound
By the score at tidal edge, like jewelled wings
They shimmer in the light, each side with pearly
Sheen, all cleanly washed by wet, and hiding
Now in weed, provide, if gathered early
A tasty fishy meal. Generous nature's
Bounty lies waiting as waters recede.
Seabirds busy pecking as high tide abates
Show no fear as we walk near them, their needs
Are met, flows will not wait, so our time gone
We leave next tide to do what needs be done.