torpid seaside

December 10, 2012
coarse sand is frozen
only defrosts when smothered by winter waves
the urge to dig my feet in the sand is gone
like the balmy dog days of summer
pastel brush strokes paint the sky
instead of summer’s blue

the frostbitten ocean is more gray than blue
now in hibernation, and in some parts, frozen
the sun sinks low as it bids goodnight to the november sky
as the sand’s blanket, come forth the waves
like a thick, icy comforter, unlike the wispy, carefree sheet of summer
won’t fall asleep until every gull call is gone

with a tranquil silence in place, job is done and gone
diamonds watch over from the sky, no longer blue
numb from the raw hours of night, unlike the cricket-chirping nights of summer
those crickets are dead and frozen
like the creatures that thrive under the waves
and the summer birds that enlighten the sky

it couldn’t be more spectacular, that glacial sky
the sunset is perhaps the only thing that with summer, isn’t gone
the only thing that can’t be carried off with the waves
that tumble away from their original state of blue
they steal with them, the sweet memories of beach fun, now frozen
sand buckets and shovels wash away in the tide with summer

it stands alone now, lonely, no longer home to the best days of summer
it has lost most of its feathery life to warmth, their highway, the sky
some remain, and i don’t understand how they’re not frozen
they’re the brave ones, the birds made to survive this, the only creatures not gone
they soar away from hunters, taking flight into the frigid world of blue
they abandon the ocean, where in the summer they float, serene in the cool waves

frozen and solitary, its only friend, the waves
gone is the chatter and splashing of the months of summer
sky fades into darkness, no longer the beach sky of blue

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