After The Storm

Those shores, shrouded
in heavy fog; the coarse sand,
the hard rocks,
battered by wind and wrought
with salt water, emulating
peril and menace.

But eventually, that fog will lift,
revealing new birches,
soft chalk cliffs,
emerald headlands scribbled
in rich daffodils,
free from storms,
glittered with dew.

I don’t know how it feels to be at sea
For weeks or months, and then to walk
On solid ground.
But I know what it’s like to find
The sturdy land
After turmoil and tempestuous times.