A Winter Beach Poem by Sam Mauzy

A scene of desolation like a film apocalyptic
With empty streets, buildings bleak and forlorn;
A breezy scrap of plastic scuttles like a crab;
Unruffled, stoic gulls stand and stare.

Bold in winter's hush, coastal spirits reassemble,
Banished by vacation tyranny and syndicate of play,
Ancient Indians, marooned shipwrecked sailors,
Fishermen, soldiers killed in a great bombardment.

We bask in the serenity of golden cold sunlight
In dappled sky, linger on the fortitude of wet sand,
The curling perpetual surf our resurrection
And redemption for a winter beach.