Scribbles

I’ll tell everything to the gulls
when they swoop
and settle in the sand.
I’ll give them something
to peck and discard
among the grassy dunes
and between the warping
boardwalk cracks.

The pier breathes in creaks
and cracks, mottled white
by salt and sun
and summer visitors strolling
between the soaking
seaweed strands.

And I wonder if
I should have been a lighthouse keeper
above a roiling salty sea,
waiting for the tides’ return
above the tossing waves.

This entry was posted Monday, July 26th, 2010 at 8:39 pm and is filed under Poems. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.