wind-driven waves crash against the shore
shooting salt spray high above jagged rocks
gulls cry and seem to tumble from angry skies
they swoop into the swirling surf to snatch silvery fish
I watch them, not yet dead as they wriggle in the bird’s claws
a sight that fills me with dread

the chill refuses to dissipate even as the sun shoots broken beams of light
I kneel on sand still damp from the receding tide and wonder
this ocean teeming with life seems to be singing a lonely song
one that recounts a time when the need to care didn’t exist
respect was unrefuted and best practices were the norm
a time when dolphins danced in cold, clean waters

man and this earth were bound together
the drive to exist as one passed from generation to generation
understanding that the bitter and the sweet moved in balance
and signs of distress were calls meant to be answered
now they seem to be met with silence
a sound that fills me with dread




photo: Pixabay
prompts: The Sunday Whirl, Sunday’s Whirligig


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