Winter Waves

Standing atop the cliff Looking down the precipice To the foam-crested waves. Crashing spume into the crags, I notice a small vessel Being tossed about by rollers, A reticent rainbow attempting to Travel across the sea, Cloaking a mounding rock In momentary technicolour. The wave, a prize fighter, Lifts its heavy form Only to receive a sucker punch From the outgoing tide, Ripping beneath, into its belly. CRASH! Down falls the crest, Atop that tide who took Its feet from under him. He flattens under the foam, Locks flying forward until He lies out on the sand, Utterly wasted.