Salty Transcendental Tide Poem by Holly Gardner

Green and brown
Salty transcendental tide
Come wash over the land
Bring life up from the bottom

Like you have before
Washing us with minerals
From a sailor's eyes
Lost a hundred years ago.

Nothing's real that you see
At least not much
Just put on your coat
And walk in with me

I think there's room for you
And what is more
The necessary is waiting
It's hand on the door

Mr. Vernon Beasley has retired
Waves crash but really
The sound is sleep, purpose and heat
Imperfectly over land and deep