photo: This poem was written while looking at the Atlantic from Aberystwyth, back when I wasn’t taking photos. This photo was taken near Wellington.

The greedy waves kept coming

the waves, what waves!

and the grey seagulls

in the dying light

of a surprising winter

but the waves, what waves!

and the grey seagulls,

and the foaming surf

almost scared

of its own tide

that would delete the words of love

written in the sand of the afternoon