The sky grows dim and darkens now
As ocean spray whips cross my brow
The storm clouds gather o’er my head
As lapping waves do seashells spread.
The beach is rippled, cold and wet
Where muddy footprints cannot set
While clams submerge in tidal sands
Betrayed by holes from siphons glands.
Each of us has a tale to tell
And each new thought, a wish to spell
We thank the Lord for His invent
And praise Him for the best intent !