Three poems about the beach

1.

Mornings spent on sand

Under endless June Gloom.

Grey skies far and wide,

Far as eyes can see,

Grey, the color I always wished my eyes were.

It's 62 degrees at six-thirty

And the sun never comes until

Well after one.

Groundhog Day and Waiting For Godot

Have finite running times.

This austere loop is endless.

2.

We were there that morning

In Venice

When the divers went out

In search of

That wrestler who went

Missing

Who died protecting

His ten-year-old boy.

Swallowed by an undertow.

The lifeguards couldn't reach him.

That night they had to give up

The search and wait until morning,

When the waves might be more forgiving.

Next day nothing.

Two days later, a tent heaven white,

A paddle out funeral from locals,

A surf in his honor,

A wet bouquet,

Roses in sand.

3.

Crows gang up on seagulls

To protect their buffet.

I watched one pull a fast one,

Pretending to protect an empty wrapper,

Throwing a bully gull off the trail.

They've migrated towards us.

Every morning waiting

Only a few crow's feet away  

From our green and yellow

Beach towels.

We feed them cat kibble

By the handful,

Making food castles

For their black beaks to nibble

By the mound.