Beach Art

Drifting scent of seaweed 

repugnant to the unaccustomed,

to me, is sweet perfume.

This flora of water’s garden

reveals a tapestry too intricate

to be crafted by human culture.

Sculptured writing on the shore,

penned by the tide, rising, receding,

is not limited to capabilities of mortals.

Raging turbulence,

striking the base of craggy bluffs,

gives undue glory to its power.

As a blanket of dusk unfolds,

absence of daytime’s blaze

creates an aura of solace…

and silent memories linger.

©Laura Crumm 2014