Ocean’s Edge [sonnet]
Standing on the edge of an ocean shore
on the sand shimmer surface of the swell;
my arms thrown out wide to the water’s roar,
I listened for the tolling of the bell.
Strange screeching birds were circling overhead;
“Into the water, if you dare!” they cry.
It felt as if my life hung on a thread;
“What if it’s cold or too rough?”, I reply.
Then a wind like a hammer hit my back
and the birds screamed above me even more
as I entered the torrent with a crack
and was driven very far from the shore.
With a gasp I then awoke from my dream
awash with the thoughts of what could have been.
© 2011, Alan Morrison
The Naked Troubadour 