Tide and time

The foaming fingertips of waves
Born upon the ocean’s roar
Touching brief in peaked salute
As down they bear upon the shore
Softly ending, effortless drifting,
Begin their journey home, once more.

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Silent sands

Each wave
Rolls
Toward the shore
Perfectly proportioned
Curving gently
Before crashing
Swirling
Up silent sands
Receding
Returning
Wind whistles in my ears
Carrying far off voices
It catches the spray
Whipping through the air
The sun shines down
Warming
Where the wind cools
I sit
Staring
Waiting for the tide to turn.