Isabel Watson

At Portland Bill

We wait with baited breath
and then we gasp in awe
for the roar of the waves
overpowers us all.
A carpet of water constantly unfurling
from little mountains crashing
to the big waves a-curling.
The water’s hissing in a menacing rage
submerging the rocks in epic climbing waves.
Tumbling over each other in their haste
to get to shore, making icy foams
sharp as a tiger’s claw.
Then we’re coated in sea salt,
a sheet of soaking spray
for a massive wave came tumbling,
swirling up a fray.
The spray shoots upwards –
up it soars so high,
spilling water secrets to the eager, murky sky.
Threatening, a wave builds up,
showing a heart of emerald green
as if in a finale,
there’s one more wave extreme.