The coastline is a rugged spine of cliff,
its rocky ribs fall and rise with each breath
of wind and wave that shifts the distant skiff.
Its feet stand firm and solid in the depth
of salty water tugging at its bones,
ribs falling, rising with each breath.
The tides have loosened roots and bits of stones
like rotten teeth; they tumble to the beach
with salty water tugging at its bones.
At high tide, sandy walks are out of reach,
the swell has all but washed away the scree,
like rotten teeth it tumbles to the beach.
A muted pearly light over the sea
becomes a fog that creeps towards the shore,
where swell has all but washed away the scree.
It sips the salt-stained lighthouse like a straw,
the coastline with its rugged spine of cliff
veiled with fog that creeps towards the shore
where wind and wave shift the distant skiff.
Kim M. Russell, 1st November 2018
Last week, Jill was behind the bar with a repetition prompt. Inspired by Jane Dougherty’s poem entitled ‘Shoot’ for the previous Open Link Night, I tried a terzanelle. However, I got carried away and it turned into something else. This week I’m hosting OLN and taking the opportunity to share a reworked version.