The Sea
poem by Paula Stevenson , illustrated by Marjorie Crosby-Fairall
I can smell it first—
the salty air, feel it
crusting my skin,
stiffening my hair.
Then I can hear it—
the engine of the sea
roaring, churning.
I race across
the stinging sand
to the cool fringes
of the waves.
My toes disappear—
footless I stand
like a statue
on a strange shore.
The waves unroll
then retreat
exposing my feet
on corrugated ridges.
Above me gulls shriek
diving like arrows,
piercing the skin
of the sea.
I trace a trail
past glowing bluebottles
and beaded seaweed.
On the sandy floor
of the rock pool
three red starfish
gaze at the sky above.
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