By the Surf

Pounding, pounding, beating on the shore
comes the tide in foaming waves..
curly conches, mussels, clams galore;
their tiny fragments the beach pave

Should a stormy wind at sea tear loose,
these beings from their natural support,
the beach become their last of life's abuse,
except collectors their display should sort.

Another day, waves just gently lap,
reflecting sun and hosting pelican,
backdrop for sandpiper's skitter and tap,
Where sand castles collapse into the sand.

Should the evening not cool too fast,
sun set may hold the walkers in its sway,
leaving images of seaside that can last ,
long after lazy days have gone away.

You must have loved the sea that you would make,
so many creatures all so different and intersperse,
and love us too, to make them for our sake,
each beautiful in our Father's.universe.