Seascape At Evening Poem by Kevin Cowdall

A backward glance revealed
the path of our footprints across the sand;
a Morse-like string of dots and dashes,
leading from the steps across the deserted beach
to the granite outcrop upon which we sat.

An iron-grey sky hung threateningly overhead
as the sea churned, rolling white-flecked
waves shoreward to wash away the debris
discarded by day-trippers too lazy and uncaring
to carry off their own unwanted litter.

A screeching gull wheeled across the sky,
hung motionless for a moment, then swooped -
skimming the water before plucking a tit-bit
from the surface. Then it soared high, dipped its
wings once and disappeared over the rim of the cliff.

The sea swelled, throwing frothing waves
higher to scour clean the tarnished sands,
then receded slowly, energy spent,
only to gather itself once more
for a further onslaught.


The air grew chillier and we put up our collars
and dug hands deep into pockets as we made
our way back to the flight of steps.
One last glance showed the beach swept clean,
our footprints already cicatriced.

And in that calm, that stillness,
it was as if neither we nor you,
nor mankind itself,
had ever existed.