Sunday morning and the tractor hauls
The lifeboat up the sand against the tide,
To the left dog and husband search for shells
While boys of all genders can be descried
Watching its slow progress to home again
A mechanical toy from a simpler age
Subsumed by beach, shimmer of sun and rain,
Now quiet dwells and only seagulls rage.
All is peace, the routines bringing calm
And order to this essential shadow play,
Preparing for seas which can overwhelm,
When storms blur boundaries of night and day.
I look beyond the cliffs around us curled
And wish for more lifeboats in the world.