The Sea

Relentlessly forgiving
Yet at the same time harsh
With brimey silt
And starchy salt

Whilst temperate in Summer
And hard after Autumn
It will wash your soul
And fill your sense

A personal pilgrimage
Every time to Bull Wall
A 'How-do-you-do'
To random bathers

High tide, full moon
Mid morning sun
Here has no currency
Other than the soul