tempus fugit

By ceridwen

Digestion!

The wind was fierce and the sea was wild. There was spray and spume and surf. My hands froze and I could hardly stand upright. Exhilarating!

The Sea,  by R.S. Thomas

They wash their hands in it.
The salt turns to soap
In their hands. Wearing it
At their wrists, they make bracelets
Of it. It runs in beads
On their jackets. A child’s
Plaything? It has hard whips
That it cracks, and knuckles
To pummel you. It scrubs
And scours: it chews rocks
To sand: its embraces
Leave you without breath. Mostly
It is stomach, where bones,
Wrecks, continents, are digested.

(Colour version  added as extra)

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