On Southern Shores

Southern Shore

I could forget it’s winter here at all
were not the sun hung low against the sky.
Like almost every day throughout the year,
it burns off morning fog till hues are true,
sprays sparkles on the gulf and warms white sand,
while baking bathers basking in its rays.

By four, the blue horizon’s tangerine
as sunbeams dance across soft cotton clouds,
then slide behind the dunes. A fading glow
distills the turquoise ocean, dulled to slate,
and powdered-sugar turns to charcoal dust.
Before the dark takes hold, the twilight’s gold.

When moonlight spills its silver on the beach,
I could forget it’s winter here at all.


© 2017 Susan Eckenrode