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.
‘Finding sturdy land’ I wonder if you were thinking of a solid secure way of life . I’m retired so in a way the storm of life is over.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Definitely one way of looking at it!
LikeLike
Oh, I love this! The last three lines wrapped the poem up perfectly. This is wonderful, you guys!
LikeLike
This touched me.
the breeze is nice after the storm. Some how new… taste different too. It takes adjusting but some how better.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glad to hear – thanks =)
LikeLike
It really depends. If you are used to the turmoil, you will find sturdy land too….. ordinary. Those who love the storm would love to return to it, no matter what the risks be.
LikeLike
I’m not a huge fan of nature-centric writings but I love this. Its amazing, really.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, that means a lot – glad to have swayed you!
LikeLiked by 1 person