Rank after foamy rank,
Armies from over the distant horizon
Storming the beach
Charging ashore, advancing then retreating
Only to advance again and again
A little farther each time before draining back out to sea,
Never quite reaching the grassy dunes,
Before the ebbing of the tide reigns in the assault.
Yet, from the flat expanse of beach,
Still damp from the army’s advance,
Rise clouds of fog
Hugging the sand, they continue their march,
Advancing up the strand to infiltrate the grassy meadows,
Accomplishing with sun and wind that which the brute force of the tides could not.