Storm Bay Clouds of risen mist hang above sea and below hill tops. Low clouds rest in mountain valleys. Between islands, straits run with mild chop, the current pushes waves to the shore, they playfully crash through ancient rocks. The sea voice sounds, the wind silent. Surf gently roll leaves a trail of foam. Waves tumble, crash, splash, and wash, fail to breach the shore’s defence. A massive rock chiseled by sea, rain and wind - An elephant rock, headless, underside a weathered cave a fools shelter coated in lichens green. This is not a gentle bay: Gravels and rocks define the shore, quartz streaked stones lie upon steep beach sieved by wild storms. Speckled greys, mixed yellow browns and jasper-red. Seaweed dumped in contoured lines tell the storm surge tale. Uprooted trees dumped like trucks in a wreckers yard. Tossed by wild tides and heavey seas across rocks where mussels breed. And there stands on storm alert a lone shag waiting, preening, watching. Curtains of rain now hide the island like closing curtains. Bulging cumulus clouds leave the scene. Sheet blue-grey storm clouds make way, dominate sky, The seas hues shift to battleship grey. Black shag returns to its sheltered place. Over gentle sea lightening streaks, thunder bellows, the southerly rises, once quiet wind moans and rages, the sea lashes out in fury, waves surge, white crests break waters purge the elephant’s cave. Shoreline waters whip into wild surf gravel once settled moves, thrown, sieved, dead trees exhumed, cliffs crumble. Primordial waters gather, enraged seas cry out "Dissolve the land". © Craig A Roberts, 2022
Photo: Author