Glittering, shimmering, silver vibrations
Run through the field of stones
Like hot, tiny tiles long washed from the roof
of a make believe cottage, the flat, grey discs
Kept always in motion but known to the child
Who played on this shoreline a lifetime ago
Grey while cliffs bring shade, hazing over head
Dripping, trickling, surging and sometimes pounding,
A fusion of water sounds in my ears
Right here and over jaggy rocks beyond
Changed but familiar, with no human trace
or clue as to when. I’m back on the beach