the sandpipers daintily skip
and pick at the golden bulbs
among the tangled weeds
as the fog
rolls over the lacy surf
like the sweeping veil of a bride
misting the mid-day sun.
with gulls as escorts and
starfish bouquets
and shells of gold and white
the bridal breeze swishes
and swirls the surf
pale and gray and green.
forms appear suddenly,
the wedding guests at this feast,
a man with his dog on a leash
and a couple pushing a baby cart
over the wet gleaming sand,
laughing.
the fog's rolling in, the old woman says
as she squints toward the sea
the maid of honor she,
gathering shells in her canvas bag,
for later.
Copyright: Gloria Gay, 2006
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