You want to get the sky

 

just right, its gauzy blue

and soft mauve, how

it reflects upon the sea

between the boardwalk

and breakwater, shoal

farther out, sun going

down, a few gulls

prospecting the beach

along the jetty, some

wisenheimer in a blue

souped-up Chevy in

the parking lot, his

music cranked up,

a primal distress cry,

one might think, but

as the girl glides past

on her paddleboard

she seems oblivious

to all but the small wake

she cuts through the blue,

deeper than the sky

which glows with last

light, her rhythmic stroke:

reach and pull, stroke

and glide, almost sensual

as the waves break

and purl against the reef:

the scene could be

a painting if you were

not so mesmerized,

had brush, paint and

canvas and knew how.

 

--Miguel de O

Done