Beside the Sunset Bay

Calling softly, seagulls fly

Above my head to touch the sky.

Water in the bay recedes,

And all the children wonder why

Time uncovers waiting weeds

As low tide pulls the waves away.

Salted sea foam breezes play

Across the sand the sunshine feeds,

While the water’s bluish gray

Complexion satisfies the needs

Present on a distant shore

Where other children’s visions soar

To spot the seagulls in the sky.

Still, this roaming troubadour

Will see the cycle, wet and dry,

Wishing to reflect upon

The storied patterns come and gone.

Where does every moment stray

When tides propel it past the dawn?

Perhaps it floats away

To rest beside the sunset bay.

Last week, I was at a conference in northwestern Washington. It was at a hotel sitting right beside a bay, and across the water was a town in Canada. The sunsets over the bay were very beautiful, but I found the morning low tide to be especially interesting. The bay was somewhat separated from the open ocean by islands; I assume that's why the water level dropped so much during low tide. It uncovered a big slope of sand, and the aquatic plants that had been far below the surface of the water were now out in the open air. That's where the ideas in this poem began.