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...
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