The flood flows out, and yet I stand
My confused feet, receding sand
To dark and deep I point my keel
A few short strides out from this strand
My little dog is wont to heel
He frets behind me sad and leal
Before this dune the ocean craves
Its chill claws for the next warm meal
Sand Pipers trace the lapping wave
My small friend shakes his stance is brave
He yaps and growls a wet protest
Distracts me from the waters nave
Cold to afflictions I've confessed
The deep waits steaming, unimpressed
Froth of the blighted and the blessed
Froth of the blighted and the blessed
Jeffrey Tillery
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stopping-by-sea-on-a-stormy-evening/
