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

at that-and-that-and-that-and-that!”

I held her hand tight,

then yelled,

“And that!”

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?”