Sea Life

And some time take a chance on riding east

to Whitby, where Atlantic waves hit shore

on a wintry day - when real wind

catches blue light and, together, harass

the land. That ocean’s wilder than a horse;

and, when you look, the moors, slate and snow

have their edges smashed by wave on waves,

churning shingle, rasping white and white,

when relentless, curling grasping petals

turn and grab, release.

Unless you’re God, and know what’s going on,

you’re ungrounded here:

so quickly hurry onto pavements

before the next refreshing wave hits sideways,

catches your awaiting heart and cracks it open.