There’s something to be said for

venturing out in the cold

and heading into the wind:


the bite on the face and tears

dimming sight, the pounding of

the surf echoed by my heart;


the dog hunkered down trying

to get under the wind, the

bleakness of the empty beach;


short steep waves with their tops blown

off , sand lifting and shifting

like in Lawrence of Arabia,


and the marsh grass showing the

scudding clouds the way to

yesterday’s calmer weather.


© Marty Luster 2012