Seething
Foam whitely seethed, stirred up by surf
While sun beat down upon hot sand
And there, a way’s, a couple lounged
In folding chairs set side-by-side,
Umbrella flapped, it cast its shade,
When up the strand two ladies trekked,
Bikinis bright and teeny, tight,
Man’s face, alert,
With eyes joined them:
From where she sat,
Rebuked woman,
Hand tugged his chin,
Imploring stop!
His finger rose,
Her chair, she left
To point their way.
“So what?” he shrugged,
Both feet he found,
Her back, she turned,
His arms went cross
And head leaned in,
The shifting breeze
With anger filled—
She stooped and grabbed her canvas tote
And swiftly marched past swaying grass,
Retreating well behind the dune;
Umbrella sagging, chairs turned flat,
The jilted man, he struggled, stormed:
He made the dune and plodded on
While surf roared in, and foam seethed white.
March 2, 2017
Lover’s Quarrel Poetry Contest
Lewis Raynes, Sponsor
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