And so I have gone down
to the salty, briny air
where the surf tumbles the sand
and the wind combs through my hair,
.
where the seagulls dip and squabble
and the pocket pools grow warm
and the starfish snuggle rocks
as the tide begins to turn,
.
where the sun lights through each wave
as it surrenders to the sea
and the sky steams into purple
and the night spits stars to me.
.
(c) 1992, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright
Seasonings 