Soon squad two arrives
Shadows rise
Black bodies flare
Into foggy skies

Drain plug pulled
Lagoon feeders stand frozen
In the depleting narrow streams
Staring between their legs
Ponder breakfast dreams

Off-shore pelly huddle
Sand bar hosts some twenty
From shore they are surfing
Or resting
Waiting as incoming waves
Wash their feet,  igniting
A frenzied lift-off

Early risers
Some are misers
With coffee they sip
Some don’t leave a tip

Fish food frenzy
Over the wall
Leftover chum
A gull free-for-all

Squawks startle
The faint of heart
Quickly recover
As the mist breaks apart

Behold the sun
Melting the dew
Like a well-delivered sermon
To folks in the pews

A surfer
And a fishing boat
Bob about
Both afloat

In the center
Lagoon toward Stinson
Huddle maybe fifty
Big fat pelicans

Kids out early
Beach bound crowd
Cormorants dive
Without a sound

Being and nothing
At the coast
Pen some poems
Toast some toast

Broad view this ocean
A big Montana sky
Flat as a pancake
No waves there to ride

Hot beams fry the skin
From my cheek to my teeth
Summer sun deliverin’
It’s a toaster on the beach

One gull yanks
Post-fourth booty
An oyster from it’s shell
A bivalve cutie

Of days of light
Onto shores most fair
A vision so bright
None else can compare

to right here today on the bo bay

Ships that sailed
Rest in the deep
Off this reef
Known by Indian chiefs

But now it is calm
Rocks hide below
That’s what sank them
So long ago

Inviting  the ocean
Marine layer’s in
Folks stroll,  dog balls roll
Some come down to take a swim

Midsummer daydream
Under overcast
Things never what they seem
Change and time both past

Cool air
Me, too
My window’s down
Ha choo

Neat ceiling
Hover cover
Light breeze
Foggy mother

Startle then lift
Drift ‘n bend
Out of Seadrift
Soar eight pelicans

Sand no foam
Piled deep
Breathe in slow
This one’s to keep

Silence calls
Broken only by roar
Gentle topplings
Just off shore

Beach go’ers stoop
To pluck treasures
From where the sand droops
Six feet deep it measures

Waves break left
At the mouth-like entrance
Then fade right
For surfer’s,  no chance

Quaintly dimples
Ride toward that mouth
Out to sea flows
All go south

Only two gulls
Over there on Stinson
Both walk and talk
In the quiet,  it’s quite winsome

Fishing folk dot the beach
Early birders get the worm
Toss the bait,  throw it straight
Taut the line,  keep it firm

Heat’s up
Fries the skin
Clouds drift in
It’s cool again

Hangin’ there, in mid-air
Fog looms the lagoon
Those two gulls still croon a tune
Screech like dogs bark at the moon

Lagoon is draining
Bubbling out to sea
Folks stroll beside the bowl
Twelve miles from the city

Draped yet there
Invisible by eye
And out of that fog
Shorebirds fly high

Here in sun land
Ridge-born heat
Melts my face,  man
But the heat is so sweet

Fog is melting too
As that big orb rises
Dripping true into the stew
Of all that one surmises

Right here today,  on the Bo Bay