Not many people understand that
curled up high by the tide
is the weather-front,
a rendez-vous of sticks and sand,
the aged lovers holding hands
as tight as a whelk in a shell,
and the embryo of a dune.
Look, you don’t just slap up
a concrete wall and call it
Poem and reading by Rachel McAlpine cc by 2.0, photo by Dave Young CC BY 2.0 via Flickr.
Dave Young’s note:
Strong winds blow the black sand along the beaches of coastal Taranaki and expose the broken driftwood deposits of storms long past. This driftwood serves as a foundation for the dunes.