A work of art rests on the rocks.
The ocean placed it there –
High above the waterline
As though it sought to share
The beauty of a simple thing
The sea thought it might keep –
A treasure formed by wind and tide
And surging currents deep –
This work of art, this tree stump
Turned and honed and shaped
Takes pride of place upon the rocks
In shells and seaweeds draped.
Some stroll the sandy coastlines
To another ocean’s beat
And gaze in awe as wavelets
Scatter diamonds at their feet –
While liquid silver dolphins
Rise and dive and twist
And gulls etched high up in the sky
Soar above the mist …
The work of art is on the shore
As though on proud display –
But the cove is small and hidden:
And no one walks this way.
John McCallum 2009
3 comments:
I liked this poem for it flows merrily along and captures the essence of nature,random and full of little gems.
As we were discussing metre and rhythm over lunch. your poem, John, demonstrates perfectly the beauty of that poetric form.
I love the imagery of this poem, John. I can see it all on the rocks below our house and I think you've captured it brilliantly.
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