Rushing tides swell to sounds comforting

restless misunderstandings of life.

The splash of the salty waters cap

in white pillows of foam hitting against

rocks and left over sands from the tides.

No chatter, no explanation, just declarations

of existence as the visitor sits, and waits,

waits for the wisdom that is not ready

to disclose

until the tenderness of the soul

has come…

2026. CMM.

• poet Poetry remembering Sea time gone by