The Tides

The moon controls the tides...

Ebb and flow,
High and low,
Controlled by the orb,
Into the sand absorbed.

The moon knows not,
The control it has got,
The tide in its power,
Moved by the hour.

Pulled by the gravity,
It moves with certainty,
Storms rise and briefly it doubts,
But again the moon, its power touts.