On the shore with you <br />rivulets lap the sand <br />bestir times before. <br />Birds wheel <br />the bone white brittle driftwood, <br />our feet crack the dry bladderwrack. <br />The swing of your hips <br />the waves against the shore. <br />Your eyes, pools cupped <br />into the hardness of the rocks <br />your dress flotsam as the tide rises <br />against your headland. <br />The surf traces a line against your flanks<br /><br />Anthony Dalby<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-walk-to-dunstanburgh/
