Surf Fishing At Sea Bright

Sometimes, I yearn to once again sink my boots into the soft wet sand of a quiet stretch of beach and tread the frothy edge of surf along the Atlantic ocean. In my mind I can visualize the imagery of such a place and even choose the ideal time and tide.

I'd like to be there when the last fire of sunset dips below the horizon and where taking a deep breath I can taste and savor the salt air as a cool breeze blows the mist off breaking waves.

There have been times on a beach at night, when I felt I was standing in the middle of of a huge cathedral. I was so moved, I wrote the following:

The tide comes in
As twilight veils the sea
Sands that know the kiss
Of friendly boots
Beckon me

Each scar I leave
Upon this strand
The sea will hide from view
For the tide shall flood
Then ebb
And cleanse each grain anew

Now, the Striper swims below
Beyond the shoals and bars
And as I cast, I lift my eyes
To drink a million stars

This beach at night is holy ground
Where men and angels trod
And thoughts find words
To whisper prayer
I know You're here
My God

Story ID:	3631
Written by:	Tom Foley (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Oxford U.S.A.
Year:	2007