After the Storm

Clouds scud above
whirling birds coasting wildly
high, no need for wings.
Below branches dance frantic
leaving remnants of growth to fall
forlorn and abandoned.

Squalls pass fast, blown sideways
as they go. Waves, whipped
to cream, roll seamlessly to shore
where shorebirds skitter,
pitter patter, leaving Sanskrit
secrets in the sand.

Leaning into gasping blasts,
we stagger, made ragged by the wind.
Drifts of seaweed pulled from depth
lie tidy, drying row on row
as tide departs reluctantly
leaving lavish flotsam in its wake.

Treasures for the children,
shells forsaken by the life it held
in calmer times. Other baubles
unexpected on our beach, an orange,
perfect as a purchase, a Barbie doll
skinny-dipping out of depth perhaps.

The dogs have found a smelly prize,
a fish their size, they paw it,
it’s one glazed eye gazes skyward.
We deny the dogs their find,
unkindly leashing as they tug
us home once more.