You swept across my wounded shore,
To the guarded, silent dunes.
Wind swept marram, knotgrass;
Desert of spindrift memories.
A young spring tide, in full spate,
Stars within stars, pull of the Universe
Urgently making, wanting, wanton.
Fingers stroking every pebble, probing
Every inlet; brushing the curve
Of my coast with lambent fire.
Flooding with freshet pleasure
My parched and aching soul;
Covering my dry and dusty flats
With cool silver meres of moonlight.
