Fingers

Fingers of foam stir up sand,
Tickling the grains like a pianists hand,
White water glistens in the morning sun,
One wave spent becomes over and done.
Backwards the movement a symphony of time,
Cast your eyes on this vision fine,
Hear the whisper of the taunting sea,
Water is controlled yet still is free.
A dormant mountain with it's perfect cone,
Stands out boldly there all alone,
Following the coastline from left to right,
A thinking man gets things right.
Refreshed and invigorated in this space,
Again prepared for the human race,
What a contrast from now until then,
Phones and traffic or the clerical pen.
About this poem;-
A walk down the beach looking out towards Rangititoto Island,
seeing the waves and sea how exhilerating and refreshing that
activity, it gives a break and ensures you can resume life in a
better state of mind.