Silence
but for a rhythmic rumble
The pull of the tide
each wave hauling a little closer
it’s luggage of sand and weed
each retreat a
Pause
rebuilding strength
heaving heave ho, to
Crash
again
wearing down the sand to even finer grains
We are all driven by an inexorable imperative
Today’s challenge was to:
Write a poem in which you closely describe an object or place, and then end with a much more abstract line that doesn’t seemingly have anything to do with that object or place, but which, of course, really does …
The last line is a nod to the author H. G. Wells:
Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature’s inexorable imperative.
