Erik Mundall
August 1, 1995
Crowning waves come clashing Shaping sand strewn shore The speckled spray splashing Making mist and more With wild wet waterspouts As angry arrows aimed Drowning, downing doubts Sand's number now is named Pushing high proud portions Against the girded ground Tons of true contortions Around the Puget Sound Jumping, jostling, jaded And so the story goes Waves faltering, found faded Their throwing in the throes And calm and quiet, quelling The bathing breezes blow Switching soon the swelling To lulling lapping low And then again as when At first the foaming frops Hurling, heaving then Dashing dizziedly the drops God gave us great glimmers Of His harbor haven In the shining shimmers Like crystal coasts quite craven.
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