45. Sea waves
© Bruce Goodman 8 October 2017
(The poetic form selected for this week is an adaptation of the Vietnamese luc bat.)
Sea waves! Kinaesthetic
masterpiece! The earth’s trick to shine
hefty stones into fine
marble and, over time, transform
dull rock. Beauty is born
not in fierce forceful storms but slow,
quiet, gentle to and fro,
wave on wave, stop and go, hard grit.
Children ever question,
perpetual in their din and quest
to know. They prod and pest.
Their parents never rest at all;
but as the breakers fall
on stony shores to maul and grind,
Mum turns into diamond,
and Dad, wave-worn, refined forged iron.