Fisherman's Point Poem by Dan Reynolds

Each morning brought new nuances
undressing the day before's garb.
An ever-changing channel through
the stories yet to be told.

'She' had bravery in mind for those with least resolve
and death for both the timely and surprised.
Her sculptures in the sand presenting
picturesque mosaics
Disguising, shifting, sinking
Shallow graves.

Here were they, in waiting
Heroes courting epic fates
Survival? Insufficient, scant reward.
This bay that swallowed tractors, trailers.
Ponies gone astray.
Deceptively, the beauty came each day.

From storm clouds bent like shower curtains
circling round the headland's nose
to iridescent fantail rays
escorting Neptune's next retreat.
He saw
so much more than there was
But less
than was there, there.

Two windows, twice a day to take
the tide's relentless roaring dare.