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