Quicksands

Today the silence is suborned By complicit undertones Of treacherous quaking sands. Unstable ground enshrouds your feet And, with compelling power, Now drags you down Into its tight enclosure, As though by unseen hands. The distant tide has turned And witnessing your distress, Sweeps back across the bay At fearful pace to join the action, As we the curious who gather At the scenes of accidents Wondering who has died. Now in your ears An earlier warning rings.. Never cross the sands without a guide.