Neptune’s Word

There’s a sighing in the sand,

a crying in the stirring air

calling reeds of marram grass,

the mountain dunes aware.

The ocean’s in acknowledgement

the pitching surf replies,

Neptune speaks, ”Poseidon,

behold, the skua flies.”

It leaves the sea – a stranger –

and goes to seek the land.

No longer is the great marine

as safe as man’s own hand.”

© Andrew Williams