Summer Squall
The ocean, eternal, spreads wide
Reflecting slate, somber storm clouds
While beachgoers, eight stories down,
Gather towels and scurry fast
From a squall shedding white lightning,
Dull, delayed drumbeat of thunder
Touching my ears as your fingers
Cover my hand on the railing;
Surf line we watch fade, grow obscured
In a curtain of pallid rain
Encroaching the pale, vacant sand
As single-file palms bob green heads
When an updraft, cool and sudden,
Tousles your soft and silken hair
And balloons your light cotton shift—
Bare beauty nearly shared—
We retreat, sliding glass door to,
Sequestering the world away
Save your bold, yearning expression,
Gentle kisses to hungry lips,
Cotton slipping, slacking, falling,
Then persistent, gusting patter
Of rain like long-pent love.
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2017
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