Eventide
A Poem by Sally Thomas
The sea unfolds itself onto the sand Again, again. It drags its yellow hem Across our feet and back. You hold my hand And sing to me, the first bar of a hymn: Abide with me. The phrase, unfinished, slides Away into the dusk. The world’s wet rim Keeps wrinkling on the sky. The eventide’s Upon us now, the turning of the day, The long slow ebb as everything subsides Into the dark. The sea in disarray Repeats itself. There’s nothing more to see. The waves rush thinly in, then pull away As, louder now, you sing, Abide with me, Above the slow unfolding of the sea.
Sunset at Sea, Claude Monet, between 1865 and 1870
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This is lovely. I particularly like the aptly observed image of the "yellow hem" of the tide (as you note, the sea isn't inherently blue or green: when a larger wave surges and retreats, its edges often curl into a swirling glass-like tube that almost seems to glow and magnify the sand beneath), as well as the image of the "world's wet rim," which has a pleasing air of Hopkins. Also, speaking as a fellow southerner, seeing the pure terza rima triplet of "hem," "hymn," and "rim" thoroughly delights me.
This is a wonderful poem Sally. I am a big fan of Terza rima, and I love the sea so you really had me with this one.