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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #1397681
Inspired by the sound of the North Carolina surf.
A Day at the Beach

Clouds come in clots,
Dragon-tailing in front of sun,
Filtering only tangible rays.
My face burns.

Crustacean graves
Mound gracefully yet sturdily,
Praying up to the pelican line.
The sand turns.

Water cycles
Like a wheel turning on the world,
Pulsing to the beat of a cold moon.
Satellite yearns.

Record revolves.
Music of strong waves fades further,
Then slingshots back, ready to return.
My face burns.
© Copyright 2008 serene scorpion (serenaerickson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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