There, the sea:

no mermaids or pearls

or cabana beaches

‘tis green rocks and water

and the mad suicides of waves.

The surf is live white dragons

come racing, lacing

about the jagged hooks of rocks

they fling and drown.

The crabs go a-clicking

and the sea comes a-licking

at my feet, like

a great green dog.

The waters change

strange

and beautiful

the shifting in my eyes

and the wind sifts my hearing

but it can’t tempt me away

not while the water’s here.

 

I love your rhythm, sea

rocking to the moon

and if I wasn’t earth I’d be water

your salty selkie daughter

silken in your depths

but once I had to choose

and it wasn’t you.

 

Forgive me, sea;

I should still like to be

your amphibian nereid

your peltless girl

once in a while.

I like to go to East Coast Beach.  There’s a tiny strip of sand hidden beyond a belt of jungle, where you can just climb over the rocks until you’re as near the horizon as possible.