Angry She is Today...

What makes this place, my favorite beach,

So angry it wants to chase, out of its reach,

Me off the beach, I love so dearly,

Waves breaking loudly, gulls pushing me, nearly…

Washing away the sand, down-beach, called erosion,

Keeping that of man, off-beach, called aggression,

Cleaning the shore, taking her time, with a three day storm,

With driving rain and wind and extreme high tide, this is her form…

Nor’easterly winds, cannot be ignored,

Blowing sand like the stink of so many bees,

No one out to walk the beach ‘cept me, but I must unfortunately leave,

Oh so much do I, every time I must depart, to myself yes I grieve…

                        © ed – 3/30/04