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

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