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