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.

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