Song of the Sea

Song of the Sea

In winter's hush when the masts are trimmed,
the waves recite a rhyme in salt‑sprayed hymns,
a tune that pulls the tide past cloistered rocks,
and all the while the sea’s own heart it talks.

The foamy guitar of crests and troughs,
a softly striking lullaby that soothes –
where gulls on brass gleets with mirth, and driftwood sings,
the azure choir swells its eastern wings.

Across the coast from Cornwall’s waves to Norfolk’s sands,
the song goes slow, it roars, then bands,
it tells of London Bridge that tosses keen,
and whispers through the Portsmouth dock, unseen.

A sailor’s whistled chorus in the night,
the turning of the wheel, the hoisted light,
while kingdom’s net returns to line, a crow—
each note a promise of what lies below.

So let our ears be made to sense this sea:
an ocean song of endless curiosity.
Colourless, yet filled with endless spell,
the sea’s low sigh, a tide‑bound swell.