Estuary Poem by ian westwood

Noble artery,
Linking land and sea.
How I marvel at your rise and fall,
Engulfing sandy havens in your wake,
Exposing littered artefacts
At each dawn’s call,
Claiming your prowess at every stake.

Estuary,
Tapping twisting rivers far and wide,
How graceful your gliding waters,
Shifting ever seawards,
Turning into brine,
At every turn of tide.

Estuary,
Scouring with your currents
Deep divides,
Swirling with your turbulence
Long-buried sediments
Into billowing plumes.
Solitary grains conveyed
To distant lands,
Or trapped and lost in deep lagoons.

Estuary,
How I admire your majesty,
Your turquoise trail,
Expanding like a trumpet
In summer hue,
Sounding with each breath of wind
A note as clear as crystal
In far-off seaward view.

Estuary,
How I envy your wide expanse,
Your vast and timeless flow,
Harbouring songs of sweet romance,
In moonlight’s silver glow.
Or sailors’ tales
of raging gales
on coal-black winter night,
with waves enraged
to fearful scale,
A swollen sea to lash and pound,
Composing on your crashing flight
Your symphony of thunderous sound.