Clonea Poem by Martin Moore

CLONEA
My eager eyes momentarily mix
With silvery streaks on grey
September's sullen clouds eclipse
The horizon at Clonea
The low sky's faint mirage
With shimmering waterfront
A mid-autumnal decoupage
A shell and driftwood treasure hunt.
Wave upon infinite wave
The foamy, frothy water dance
The rocks become a solemn enclave
And I alone, entranced.
The seaweed drifts, on pebbles rest
Retched from the ocean floor
On silver sands their limbs appressed
Abandoned on the shore.
Sea thrift shelters in the cracks
Their leeward hollow homes
Secreted beneath well -trodden tracks
Their pinks an autumn chrome.
And all is fading, all forlorn
Wild daisy and sea kale
Summers floral fire has burned
The embers weak and pale
A seasons closing decadence
Is withered, tired or gone
But still the timeless waves can dance
An endless paragon.