The sea speaks its own language:
one of woosh, swish against the rocks
one of boom against the balustrades,
and the soft fffrmpt of foam on the beach;
luminous echoes following every wave;
its voice is muffled by grains of sand
as under grey skies it whispers in green,
and in the nights sings a low chorus
as three gulls perform a slow ballet,
white wings outstretched across the
black water like three crosses over
a dark plain