A North wind stirs the waters
on the shore of a dark green bay.
Inbound waves wear whitecaps
on a late November day.
On this stretch of beach deserted,
left alone with the wind that sighs.
Long rollers march in staggered ranks
till they blend with the evening skies.
The chill of Autumn air proclaims
not long will Winter wait.
The seabirds fly to find a roost
before it grows too late.
These barren dunes speak solitude,
a haven where I go.
Both time and troubles melt away
as the tide laps to and fro.
To sand and surf none can compare,
a natural therapy,
For a troubled mind or lonely heart
they never fail to free.