Sometimes at the Beach
there’s a feeling of being at the centre,
in tune with the rhythm of the waves
and the larger rhythm of the tides.
Laid back, looking up,
in full contact,
warm sand all up and down
The cloudless sky
and the long flat horizon,
Bankers and business men
in long serious overcoats
are distant notions.
Only the sand is real,
and the sun-bleached driftwood,
the occasional gull whose harsh cries
call out the sky.
This poem was written for the Surprise Challenge, ekphrastic poetry about Magritte paintings.
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