The Ocean Makes Love To The Shore. Poem by Ann Beard

The sun....like a spotlight hangs low in the sky.

While a midwinter frost, single-mindedly slides,

its crystalline touch onto estuary landscape,

pockmarked and scarred from receding tides.



Every wintery surface....a blanket of finery

sea-bed with diamonds, trees edged with lace.

Expectation is high, in a breeze sent to tease,

with a promise of incoming tidal embrace.



With a touch that is sensual, achingly gentle.

The inlet, aroused, as never before.

Will drown in the act of total surrender

as incoming ocean makes love to the shore.




Roan copyright July 2015