Low tide
I walk beside you
across mudflats in
my blue gumboots,
over crackling oyster
shells, green-ribbed pipi,
the traces of wading birds.
When the tide is out, what lies exposed:
river threads of mud, old brown stones
tiny mussels yet to grow:
my sole prints left
on the ocean's
bones.
By: Sarah Penwarden
Kia Ora, it's Alyssa here from Grey Main School.
ReplyDeleteI like your low tide poem because it has a lot of describing words in it. I like how you said tiny mussels yet to grow. This reminds me of when I wrote a poem about low tide (mine was short). Do you live close to a beach?
Thank you for this comment Alyssa, and no, I don't live near a beach, I do live near a basin though, Panmure Basin.
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