Poem number five in my Poem-A-Day-For-A-Week-Or-So series. Snow outside, test cricket on the TV, beer in the cupboard. That’s my day sorted, then.

The sea sighs for you tonight.

It sucks at the shingle

And smears your footprints

Like a wet thumb rubbed across writing.

Where once you walked and left your

Prints, it gently wipes the land clean.

Lovingly it lays its cheek to the ground

And nuzzles your memory.


We are more than specks

In the infinity of time and space

Yet somehow we need to

Make sense of our lives.

Rock endures

But so does the wind and the rain.

More so, in fact, since in the end

Mountains are levelled

And the wind and rain remain.


In the end the passage of many feet

May be more durable than

Dwellings of stone.

15 thoughts on “Sigh

  1. So much great imagery here, Mick. A beautiful spell to be under. We’re under a winter weather advisory, another spell to my mind, the snow sticking ethereally to everything it touches, taking my breath away, and bringing a bit of peace to the world because its so hella quiet now, an even better blessing. When we moved here to this house on a hill the stillness was part of the charm, but encroaching development has since chased the stillness down the road with its tail between its legs. We humans make more noise than any other species; I will revel in today’s spell. ;0) (see, you made me get all poetic and stuff!)

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That’s more poetic than me, Pam. The snow’s not really up to much here – certainly not living up to its advance billing as ‘The Beast from the East #2’. Still, it’s an improvement on grey, wet, and miserable.

      Liked by 1 person

        1. In my own incarnation as a palaeontologist I’ve collected hundreds of fossils, the oldest around five hundred million years old, but what gives me a tingle down the spine is touching stone circles five thousand years old, or flint tools from around fifty thousand. It’s the connection with our own human ancestors, isn’t it?

          Liked by 1 person

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