A High Tide In Cornwall

There was to be a high tide,
That Autumnal expectation.
Would it sweep in before a gale,
Flooding over stacked sand-bags,
Filling the cellars.

It came, the air was still,
The harbour brimmed.
There was sea in the High Street,
But not too deep. Water rippled,
Gleamed with lamp-lights.

Excited voices echoed,
Youthful paddlers exultant,
Joyful in fulfilled expectation.
Not often could feet be dipped in the sea
In the High Street!

MSK