The Racket They Made

The sound of the breaking tide against the pebbles can trigger so many feelings and memories. An urge to allow the water to wash over your ankles. The saltiness of the sea spray on your tongue. A sharp burst of pain from a stone in your sandal. An intake of breath as the cold of the first wave catches you unawares. The clatter of the pebbles as the water retreats.

“And the tide shrinks back into its womb
And I hope the empty shells and bones of your stories
Will litter and clutter the shores and I hope that when I find them
I'll remember how they danced
And the racket they made when they were alive”

And the Racket They Made – King Creosote