It’s the last hurrah of summer. I rarely share my poetry online, but … here I am.

Ocean

Foam, waves, tripple around my feet
now gloriously raw from the pebbles and shell bits.
White bubbling sea patterns
rushing up cold to catch me
in their beckoning game,
spitting up dares from amidst green breakers
and blended from a cerulean horizon.
Yes, I’m red-raw, but come `round me,
I see you so little, my friend.

© Jeanne Balsam