Beach House
twilight at low tide:
the seabed like a wide flat road
stretches for a mile;
across the distance
the volcano stands,
majestic
against the changing sky —
I look back:
the beach house my father built
awaits,
from the balcony, gas lamps flicker,
orange flames glow
in lavender light —
I walk with hermit crabs
upon rocks and sand,
gather sea urchins
in my willow basket,
my little feet soaked
in shallow waters
this moment I am
with the sea as the tide turns,
the volcano shrouded in twilight,
the beach house
silent,
aglow.
D. G. Vachal ©2025
Image by Tim Hill @pixabay
lilies, sparrows and grass 
“…with the sea as the tide turns…” I can picture every footstep and pause, beautifully penned! 😌✨
Thank you, Susan! I am glad you could picture “every footstep and pause”!
Your brilliance is showing through once again. This is an exceptionally beautiful poem. 💞💫
Thank you, Shelley! I am humbled by your words and so glad you were touched by this poem.
Wonderful poetry, Dee. It is a challenge to pen verse about the sea, especially of a seascape so varied. Like being there. Thank you
Thank you, RJ! Yes, the sea was a big presence in my childhood. I am glad the words of the sea I described brought you there.
beautiful picture 👍
Thank you, Neeraj!
Wonderful scene you have created and a beautiful poem. I love the images of your little feet walking with hermit crabs and seeing the light from your father’s beach house in the distance. Must have been a wonderful moment in time! 😍
Thank you, Ellen! This time of year brings back warm memories.