Again the tides languidly sweep in and out,
Bringing immigrants from unknown shores,
Signs of life above and below the sea,
Harbingers of man's influence on nature.

Waves tickle the shells of industrious crabs,
Shipwrecked in microcosms of dark pools,
With their fellow voyagers in this waiting room,
Before the drifts continue on their journey.

Starfish stretch their weary limbs,
Sage fingers of weed coil round,
Grasping at mermaids' purses,
And slivers of timber ripped from ships.

Sticky tar and the skeletons of plastic bags,
A fallen seagull choaked by slick,
Netting tangled with delicate ornaments,
Of silver cans and emerald glass.

Delicious jelly forms quiver at the water's edge,
Spines of fish poke through the shoreline,
An army of spears signalling no entry,
Yet no passport is required here.

Seals bask enraptured, dancing and playing,
Sunning themselves in pure bliss,
While the sea turns around the pull of the moon,
Invisible from her sister yet her influence still present.

Plebeian stones gleam in the sunlight,
Made treasures by the illusion of water's veiled touch.
The lifetime of a footprint preserved by soaked sands,
At least until the foam rises again.

Families gather to celebrate the tide,
Fathers paddle with their children,
Jumping over waves and seeking momentos,
Whilst fishermen huddle and cast their lines.

Dogs fly after toys and find in the shallows,
Shoals of flickering fish darting in and out.
Knarled colonies of barnacles grip the pier's legs
And the wind teases the waves with gentle kisses.

The ebb and flow of life can be seen,
By small changes which pass unnoticed by so many,
It creeps upon us every day as does age,
A marvel to be beheld but so slow to emerge.