It was a blustery day and I found this poem on the beach.
St. Clair, 2015
Sea froth skips the jetty
in this wind, a hopeless umbrella
rests in the rubbish bin,
its jagged spokes not unlike
a black widow.
While it scrambles to escape
I hug my espresso—
toast and his daughter
close at hand.
Strolling, she said if she jumped high
the wind would carry her out to sea,
and I said “Oh! No!”
So she settled for little skips, and “Look
I held her hand tight,
Lounging on the jetty, a lazy lion, his
fur festooned in froth.
Waiting for him at our fish & chips café,
where the wine is delicious,
the chalk board offers Fresh Elephant Fish,
and a boy in a bunny hat is about to—
the bell trembles and he fills the room
with an ambiguous grin.
I brush froth from his cheek and
he asks, “How was your day?”