For David

In Sheringham and in the morning sun
descend the car-park steps and concrete ramp
onto the shingle, steadily, with one
intent, one goal, we shed towels on the damp
tide-line and step together through the surf
into the sea.
                  The constant, changing, sea:
eternal shroud and swaddling of the earth
for petty finite creatures - you and me.
We vanish in its grip, like ash or sand
run through a grasp, like youth, tulips in May.
Renewed, refreshed, reborn onto the land,
we climb the beach, to Sea View and the fray:
the non-stop happy riot of your clan,
your legacy beyond this mortal span.