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Echo Of Waves

 

An aeroplane soars up above, hidden within the thicks of the white cloud- I miss the freedom associated with that distant engine hum, the ability to hop between seasons and cultures, the sense of adventure and exploration. Times have changed but the mediative effects of walking the coast remain the same here as they are in the places I wander to within my thoughts. Shells shatter beneath my feet, as they sink into the damp sand beneath with each step. Grounded, my thoughts return to the here and now. I notice a single droplet of rain land on my cheek. In contrast with the howling gusts of wind that whip at my skin, the rain seems soft and gentle. A plethora of sensory experiences. The vastness of the ocean and out of reach horizon reminds me of how small I am. An insignificant figure, just like those around me that speckle the shore. The echo of waves, as the whitewash rolls in and is then beckoned back out, bounces from the cliffs that tower above me. The coastal landscape has a way of putting everything into perspective- scale and emotions alike.

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Enveloped in stillness

Bitten by the cold

In the arms of winter

At the mercy of her hold

Feelings of isolation

In a vast expanse of white

Dancing with the snowflakes

Under flat January light

Gentle breaths of wind

Steady waves they hush

Mother Nature beckons

Slow down

Use your senses

There’s no need to rush

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The rippling of water

Cuts through the silence

As it tickles the feet

Of the red sandstone giants

 

Clouds start to whisper

To the horizon below

Colours prepare

For the evening show

 

The sun becomes tired

Sinking lower in the sky

Tucks into the bed

That the hillside provides

 

 

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Seas of churned up sediment provide no temptation for a dip

Horizon flecked with white lights from far away ghost ships.

 

The musky smell of bonfire evokes memories of Fall

Familiar and lingering, in the damp air and drizzle.

 

The warm glow of streetlights lines the path up to the cliffs

Guidance to lost souls who wander in the evening mist.

 

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Clouds collide

Patterns and forms contrasting

As they meet in the blueness

Of a crisp January afternoon

 

Indigo and grey

Rugged with an air of softness

And ethereal white stripes that stretch

The lengths of the red sandstone below

 

Cliffs dwarf me

Intimidating and unpredictable

Recent rockfall evidenced by

Fragments of rock strewn boldly across the sand

 

A veil of pink proceeds

Illuminating the walk home

Past daffodils that promise spring

And the familiar golden halo of the pre-sundown sky

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Bleakness.

The ghost of a ship lurks on the horizon,

Ominous in the eery stillness.

A lone kite twitches in the southerly breeze, 

Dancing amongst white caps in the vastness of grey.

The hillside emerges from a bed of mist,

Sprawling across the water's surface.

Guls flock, drifting high above the volatile sandstone,

Gliding effortlessly.

Energy within the bleakness.

The scuffing movement of boots on the wet sand

Provides a steady rhythm, increasing in tempo. 

1,2,3 ,1,2,3

In response to the impending rainfall.

1,2, 1,2, 

Homewards.

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A minute of light,

In the darkness of the storm.

The clouds have parted.

 

A strip of turquoise.

Shimmering in the sunlight,

a beacon of hope.

 

Amongst the rainfall,

Momentary paradise,

carries me away.

 

The cloud has returned

Casting shadows and darkness

onto the Ocean.

 

The blue fades away

a reminder that nothing

can last forever.

I wonder: can a memory truly be lost or does it become fragmented beyond recognition? Dispersed like a seed in the wind, so far and wide, planted within the realms of a fresh narrative.

© 2021 by Eve Bland

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