Ocean Treasure
Upon the headland looms in solemn shade,
Blackened figures carved in mountain pine;
So black, so grave, they cast a timeless pall.
No mortal flesh, yet watchful are their gaze,
Fixed ever on the ocean’s unending line.
Upon the headland stands these like pirates all.
The cliff above stands rugged, stern, and tall,
Its shadow drapes the shoreline like a shroud.
No flesh could bear such a presence, stern, austere,
As beneath, a hidden cove lies hushed and still,
A secret chamber veiled from roar and crowd.
The sun unblinking, fixed on waters near.
Behind the cliff looms rugged, vast, and cold,
Waters where the ocean’s spoils in kelp sleep—
Bright coins of shell, and pearl-encrusted stones,
As shadows heavy, o’er the shoreline rolled,
As though the waves had gathered pirates’ keep,
And made the seabed rich with sunken thrones.
Beneath this base where this secret cove lies still,
Here sleeps the hoard of ages drowned away:
The ocean guards what the earth once had lost,
Where time forgot, yet treasures linger still.
Polished stones and shells in the sands of deep decay.
In silence kept, unglittering, uncrossed.
WoPoLi 
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