NaPoWriMo Day 11: I've Always Been Jealous of Places With Nice Beaches
From a Log at North Beach in January
Here is the sand under my fingertips
Sharp grains like gourmet pepper
In every color of gray
The wind rotten fish and drying seaweed
Cold salt and wet sour tang
Above me, the gray-blue sky falling to meet blue-gray sea
A single seagull floats, balanced on air
While sand fleas pop out from under driftwood
Like so many frozen snakes
Where did my life go wrong?
This was a fun prompt! We were told to write "a poem in which you closely describe an object or place, and then end with a much more abstract line that doesn’t seemingly have anything to do with that place", such as this wonderful poem by James Wright. I miss the beach.