Reeling into the wind, staggering along the beach
like ancient mariners tossed onto a distant shore,
our progress erratic as storm tossed debris.
As dark squalls spin across the horizon
heads withdraw, sheltering in gore-tex carapaces.
Eyes narrowed by reflected diamond light
salt stinging tears funnell down furrowed cheeks.
Cries of wonder are carried beyond the wind,
Lions on the beach!
Maroon manes tangled on the sand,
great tawny heads glistening in the sun,
these fallen giants will roar no more.
Humbled by fallen colossi,
captivated on sand encrusted knees,
the insistent tide breaks our revery.
Waves lapping salt rimed boots,
chilled by a cruel sea, lamenting
we turn homewards
weaving through ribbons of amber kelp.
Tuesday 30 September: National Poetry Day.