Toward evening, when the shouting Poem by Elly de Waard

Toward evening, when the shouting
of the day dies away and the beach
empties, the sea becomes calmer
gains a broad elongation
like a saturation
with all the noise that takes hold of you

and spreads out a gentle mist
like gray leather over everything

then sitting down in a forlorn
spot among the muted voices
and the rolling of the water
and then, and then again not
belonging to
the tide of both