Sea Battle (Poetry)

We heard it wake — the first sound
as it stirred, far out, and the air moved,
uneasy, the wind breathing fast
sent a warning gust that spread
a hiss through the overcastness of the day —
a ripple bearing promise — a cold threat.

The sea churned, heaved its green-black bulk,
and,with a wide gape, scooped up loose shingle,
reared, spitting out raw fury
in a rat-tat-tat of stones.

The cliff shuddered — almost seemed to flinch
beneath us, as though the land
was somehow taken by surprise —
caught napping, unprepared for combat.
Allied rocks dug deep their stubborn heels, anticipating
the sly suck and drag of waves regrouping,
rearming for the next assault,
their rolling choreography precise.

The fight continued bitter — sharp with salt and loud —
tide gunning for the coast, remorseless,
a constant blam, blam, blam,
hit after hit, spray like shrapnel flying
and everything freezing, soaked in stinging brine.

The sea took its share of prisoners —
chunks of land snatched clean away — and gained
a few more inches, claimed new ground
then, for the moment satisfied, withdrew,
left the shaken earth to tend its wounds.