Beached

She sat near the gentle foam.

At first just stared at the water,

listening to the rumbling of 

pebbles being pulled across each other

then she picked up a small grey stone,

examined its faint white lines,

felt its warmth from the sun,

its smoothness, its solidity. 

She put it on top of her outstretched thigh.

She lifted another, rubbed it on her cheek,

placed it on her leg. Then again and again

with the rhythm of the tide

she covered her legs with stones

until they comforted her

like heavy woollen blankets 

holding her with their weight.

She lay and watched the clouds,

the seagulls crying

like newborn babies.

Reaching out she picked more pebbles.

Gently she placed them on her chest,

alternately with one hand,

then the other. They moved

and scraped gently against each other

as her breath went in and out.

She closed her eyes and listened

to the breath of the sea,

to the breath of the wind.

The water was warmer

 than she had expected.