West Coast Poem by Francis Michael Bacon

I've lain with her this year in the sand,
Again,
And pledged my life for that moment,
Warm, clear breath, deep,
And so dear.

Though she is never easy,
Nor can I predict her,
Darkness often prevails,
And she makes me pay,
For weeks.

Rages to make us cringe,
Knock a man over only to laugh,
Driven mad by her scream,
No let up or rest,
And then remorse.

Never pity her cries,
Indulgent in the extreme,
Flooding into pools,
All I feel is betrayal,
Until with that Summer breeze,
She tempts me back.

(2004, Arisaig)