Vastness of mudflats,
so quickly reclaimed by waves
frequented by geese,
banks strewn with bleached bones of trees
and dust of distant mountains

Drawn by the moon,
twice daily the tide roles in,
smelling of salt-sea.
Some no more than a ripple.
Some with tall, white-cresting waves.

On shore, grasses dance.
Light breezes make wind shadows
in pools and puddles.
There’s movement in grey-distance
Wave crests against River’s flow

Gulls take to the sky.
As the wave passes, mudflats
lost under water.
Black-suited wave-riders
take Sabrina’s offering

Sea pushes onward.
Taking back that which it lost.
Water rushes in
filling gullies and runnels,
taking exquisite revenge