Poem for Thursday and Seahurst Tidepools

Low Tide at St. Andrews
By Emily Pauline Johnson

(New Brunswick)

The long red flats stretch open to the sky,
Breathing their moisture on the August air.
The seaweeds cling with flesh-like fingers where
The rocks give shelter that the sands deny;
And wrapped in all her summer harmonies
St. Andrews sleeps beside her sleeping seas.

The far-off shores swim blue and indistinct,
Like half-lost memories of some old dream.
The listless waves that catch each sunny gleam
Are idling up the waterways land-linked,
And, yellowing along the harbour's breast,
The light is leaping shoreward from the west.

And naked-footed children, tripping down,
Light with young laughter, daily come at eve
To gather pulse and sea clams and then heave
Their loads, returning laden to the town,
Leaving a strange grey silence when they go,—
The silence of the sands when tides are low.

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My Thursday seemed kind of mundane after the excitement earlier in the week, though we did get out to Kohl's (to pick up a skirt I'd ordered earlier) and Target (where I remembered rubbing alcohol and we found Snorlax throw pillows for the new couch but I forgot shampoo, so I have to go back tomorrow anyway). And the weather was magnificent again -- we walked to the beach in the afternoon under perfect blue skies in high 70s with a lovely breeze! 

Cheryl and I watched this week's Secret Invasion together, my favorite of the episodes so far, then Paul and I watched this week's Strange New Worlds, also a good one -- for some reason this show's Spock fan fiction works much better for me than the reboot movies or Discovery did. Now we're watching the season premiere of the much missed What We Do in the Shadows. Here are some animals at low tide on Seahurst Beach on July 4th: