Spindrift.

Today the wind is up for a fight
Thrashing the sea with long lashes of cold air
And sending white streaks of painful spume
Over the helpless, wounded body of the sand.
Only the sun sends out a hesitant finger of cold light
In a vain attempt at comfort.

Gobbets of white spray escape upwards
And fly towards the cliffs, longing for freedom,
Carried away on the breath of the spiteful air
To dash themselves against the frozen cliffs,
While the sea roars out in twisting spasms of agony,
Railing against the injustice of the cold.

Think hard before you dare to come here.
This is a harsh, wild, blasted place,
A place of conflict, death and battle,
Where the weak hide themselves away
And only the strong march out.
You have been warned.

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