Tantallon and the Bass
Waves still pound
the shell-shocked shore.
Ever present is a danger
of being swept out to sea.
Timeless, the battered rocks
provide a jagged haven
against the race
of tyrant storms.
Perhaps the gathering animals
are veterans of the Ark
seeking solace
from the preying fear
of drowning
among the whispering,
tide-caressed
pebbles
on a gentler strand.
Calling Noah, Calling Noah
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