Surfing the wave

a walk on the beach by the sea:
silver-grey it was, fading to
palest blue at the horizon where
it joined the sky, the waves
curled bottle-green, surf was
up and surfers sitting
on the boards, rising, falling,
waiting for the wave

clean fresh air and our
boots on the sand, we walked
from end to end, better
wider minds for the vista
picking up shells, watching
the waves dash as the tide came in

home I made soup
and we sat for the evening
on the couch
looping the loop

Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem