Walking in the Surf
The tide on the beach is slow, quiet,
this whisper of water on sand,
no one speaks like the sea.
You are listening too.
If I hold a shell up to your ear
will you tell me what you hear?
***
The First Note
It comes out of silence, then it’s in your heart.
One note, a wave sliding up the sandcastle wall,
washing it down to nothing, taking it back to the sea;
taken by velvet breath, long boned fingers, and flashing trumpet.
Poetry on the run 
I really, really loved the first stanza…the whispering…the quietude…the speaking like no one else.
But then I read the part where the shell (Is it a conch?) is picked up, held gingerly to the lover’s ear:
“It comes out of silence, then it’s in your heart.” Isn’t this exactly what it’s like to hold a shell to your ear, especially when you have the wonder possessed by a young one.
but the last line is my favorite: “velvet breath, long boned fingers, and flashing trumpet.” The sea with it’s quiet determination, the long boned fingers of foam…reaching…reaching
and then the blast of the empty shell. The roar we all hear.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Holly, I actually meant this to be 2 separate ideas but the formatting is confusing, so I added asterisks to make it clear. Sorry I screwed up the formatting.
LikeLike