I keep the sea, always,
To left or right of me
Because easy roads,
Worth travelling, run
Parallel to shore.

I stop, turn, gaze out
Across blue-green water,
Raise a hand to worn,
Knotted, unseeing sailors,
My nails scraping gently on glass.

I leave in the lull
Between gusts, when
Fear overtakes wonder,
And salt spray drenches
My finely wrought clothes,

Moving out of range
As wild waves smash
Against quay walls, break on
Bleak black rocks and grind
Soft silver grains to sand.