Shattered, crumbling cast-offs of the land,
the rocks, stolid, indifferent to the tide
harbour the crabs, shrimps, wood and weeds
tossed in the sea, and thrown aside,
with harnessed power, which cannot withstand
the force of the moon’s compulsive hand.
Grasping, fingering, poking into cracks,
the waves advance, concentrate their force
under the rocks, cram their thrusting bulk
noisily, into a narrow water course;
repulsed, they slither out, but then come back,
reinforced, for a new attack.