Winter Robin Redbreast

Clouded with snow

The cold winds blow,

And shrill on leafless bough

The robin with its burning breast
Alone sings now.

- Walter de la Mare -

Waters of Salt

Waters of salt, acres of sand,
lying here on this peaceful land.
Down I peer to the rocks below,
so jagged and sharp – a sailor's foe.
Stretched out sea, no land in sight,
the view is vast – earth's curve is slight.
Shriek of a gull, a mournful sound,
I watch it dive to a clam on the ground.
Daring, mysterious, and carefree –
It takes more than words to define the sea.