all that gathers on Winter’s shore
the sea washes in
Shells of Pearls from the depths of the Pacific
S e a w a s h e d
“The oceans never stop. They know no beginning or end.”
All that washes in and gathers by the sea fills our cottage for Christmastide. A weathered white tree with tattered garland like strands of seaweed, is just enough. Old worn lanterns with candles for light as day fades into dark. The deep always calling, the waves continually washing and we let it be, we let it be so.
washed by the sea