Sea Sonnet

A thousand years before your children’s eyes
were opened I sat upon the land,
and there is nothing under turning skies
that did not once pass freely from my hand.

The narrow bars from which my arms desist
(for such was once the sun my lord’s command)
to these I send the roiling fog and mist
and let my wrath fall crashing on the sand.

Of all that is, alone shall I abide:
the little land today you call your home
tomorrow falls beneath the rising tide.

Know then, when along the shore you see
the tiny mussels shattered in the foam:
no more than this is your life, man, to me.

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