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Greystones in November
by
Maire Morrissey-Cummins |
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After the rain,
the speckled glint of shimmering sand
now muddy brown.
Like a blind, closed tight on the warmth of summer,
the winter beach has shrunken in
changing the colours of my day,
to a darker palette, shades of grey.
The sun shriveled
pale faced and worn
as the cold season begins.
Seagulls a beacon
against this slate November sky,
Their sounds a comfort to a lonely beach.
The steps down to the water, pea green,
slimy weed on stone,
shiny against an ink-rippled tide.
Colours bleed into my mind while
textures and touch playfully mingle.
The salt air stings my nostrils,
caresses my lungs with wellness.
Sea sounds and song carry from the shores of Wales,
as I crunch the length of the milk tide.
I look to the horizon and imagine another me
walking a beach somewhere over there,
listening to my thoughts
as they channel across the sea.
Grateful for this beauty, the gift of nature,
I look over my shoulder, my footprints remain,
solid, as in a freshly cemented path,
their sound, echoes in the shells.
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--Submitted by Eiken on 2011-05-18.
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Cory Raymond:
Simply lovely, Maire.
Just think, I can say I knew you when!
Posted 05/23/2011 09:31 AM
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Shoshanna:
Wow...Beautiful, Maire. :)
'' Colours bleed into my mind while
textures and touch playfully mingle.''
I love these lines-a poem of hope on a dark November day. Still so much beauty to see, even on the darkest of days...
A lovely write.
Susan.
Posted 05/19/2011 03:46 AM
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rachaelsta:
What a beautiful poem about Greystones which is very special to me as my father lived in Greystones as a young man and my parents also lived there in the early years of their marriage, and I love doing the cliff walk from Bray to Greystones. I love the reference to the shores of Wales. Rachael Stanley
Posted 05/18/2011 10:19 AM
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