Shacks and shingle

I want to spew out that white foam on the beaches I call home and flow raggedly back into the wild of the sea,
I wanna ride bareback on them breakers, stake it all on the stallions who breathe water spray out from their noses.

and to lay in the shallows where the shadows of high tides are lost on horizons and each in their turn are lost in new shallows.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.