Not "shore" about the title (groan)
my first poem for a little while, I've been dashing around to poetry events
like mad!

Shore Music

The high cliff, the low sand,
the music, the waves, the boats.
What music?
The music of the high cliff,
of the low sand, the waves the boats.
The sand sings, the yellow pebbles sing,
the wet wave sings, the high cliff sings.
Words falter with every sung sigh.
Yet after they falter they rally like waves,
the boats fetch them, harvest them
from the water like broadcast fish.
The sky listens, the waves listen
and the high cliffs listen,
and hear singing in several languages.
The language of the low sand,
of the yellow pebbles, of the wet wave.
The flapping in windy weather
of the words of place,
and the rhythms
the deep wet rhythms
of the sea.

Sally Evans