gulls swooped down
above my head
like '42 bombers,
half to left and half to right
the mist,
parted by the warming gold
of the newborn sun,
kissed my face
and moved away;
sandpipers on stick legs
chased scurrying fish
among floating weeds
and icy water green,
tidepools,
slaves of the jewel sky,
shimmered
and shimmied
and danced;
and when night fell,
jagged pieces
of the silver moon
tumbled to the sea
here and there
in disarray
Copyright: Gloria Gay 2011