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  • Hugh Loxdale

Waves at Peaceful Bay


Some of these waves are mighty,

Some of these waves are rough,

Some of these waves are awesome,

Some of these waves are tough.


Some of these waves are curious

As they circle the rounded rocks,

Some of these waves are aggressive

As they pound the innocent blocks.


Some of these waves are arrogant

As they soak me high on the thighs,

Some of these waves are retiring

As they shrink back for all their lives.


Some of these waves are cooling,

A balm to my tired feet,

But others are harsh and blistering

On one’s wounds, both shallow and deep.


None of these waves are permanent

As they head to and fro,

Afore and up to the sand dunes,

Ere they crashing go.


Bringing in shells and sponges,

Bric-a-brac and dark brown wrack,

On, lively the waves pile up,

Shout and loudly crack.



A fascinating panorama,

One that never ends,

Blue-green with the whitest foam,

That the wind – and Moon – ever sends.

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