Eleanor

It was the morning after the storm
When Eleanor had finally gone home
Sand and rivulets decorate the road
The ochre seashore is swept and blown
New found rocks basking in the early light

We had listened to her all night long
Stomping the staircase
Thrashing her room
Slamming her door loudly
Outrage vented at the supermoon

Now we stand enwrapped in silence
Bewitched by this new and special place
A fresh vista glistening in the glarey morn
Redrawn dunes, crisp grass, wild piled stones
New beauty cast from the chaos of night

And under our feet concavities form
Reconnecting us to our spiritual home
As far flung pebbles patinate the sand
Flat sea, scurry clouds, hushed seagulls gliding
And tranquil waters lapping to a timeless tune

© Declan Whitney 2019