Where the tumbling frothing surf, <br />Meets the sand dunes' spiky turf, <br />And daring seagulls dive and screech, <br />Above the sunny sandy beach, <br />Inventive children with bucket and spade, <br />Run down from the esplanade. <br /> <br />Lobster pots are drawn up to dry, <br />Beneath the blue and breezy sky, <br />And seaweed waiting for the tide, <br />Lies still, with nowhere else to hide, <br />And the tangy, salty languid air, <br />Makes one want to stand and stare. <br /> <br />A crab who liked the noonday heat, <br />Makes a speedy fast retreat, <br />As all his space has been invaded, <br />By humans looking for a shaded <br />Place to sit, and rest, and play, <br />On this hot shifting sand, today. <br /> <br />Then wafting gentle winds whose kiss, <br />Anoint our bodies with cooling bliss, <br />As through the hours of burning sun, <br />We try to get our tans well done. <br />They, nowhere else, could better be, <br />Than on the shore, down by the sea. <br /> <br />© Ernestine Northover<br /><br />Ernestine Northover<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/down-by-the-sea-2/