Wild

I stopped to hear the ocean's choir
Sing songs along the sculpted shore
The surf a dance of silver lace
The sound an existential roar

I love the power of nature's hand
I draw in breath at ocean's sway
The galloped grace, the foamy trace
The fringe a gasp of briny spray

You'll find me close by Mullaghmore
Beyond the harbour's sheltered cove
On grassy slope and rounded rock
By dry stone walls the wind blows through

Where now I face the gathering gale
The cold chill batters every bone
I am a lighthouse on the edge
I am a sailor coming home

I love this wild compulsive place
Where waves like thoughts rise up and die
Where winds and water lash the land
And screeching seagulls stall on high

I stopped to hear the ocean's choir
A sound for years beguiling me
And lost myself in mindfulness
To deeper spirits of the sea

© Declan Whitney 2018