Driftwood

 

He walks the beach

Collecting driftwood

Calm carries on the sea air,

Hunks of timber now distressed.

Turned by the lathing waves of the salted expanse

 

How enduring they are,

So far from their green beginnings

He inhales and smiles

As the breath escapes he muses

I guess we have a lot in common

 

He will take them in

Find new life in their random forms

They are a seaside distraction

A salty breeze on city days in his urban garden

Serenity obtained in a memory of beachcombing

 Sioban Timmer

Sioban says: I like how this poem has a sense of textures – wood, sand, water and the effect that they have on each other.