Summertime Blues 2

All along the sandbar teasing
summer winds are sifting yellow
grains out of the wet green
algae garlands, wiping out my
barefoot traces. Here walks
a nameless stranger now: the
salt has bleached his strawy
hair. And what were eyes is
blinded, gleaming through an
inner glowing, staring out on
blue green waves, waves or
pointing sails, shifting whites
on the horizon, his ears are
full of Gull cries, ruffling surfs.
His brains blown out and filled
with clouds, swinging on the
rhythms of wingbeats, dancing
with the tumblers, before or more
against the driving of the winds.
Blow on my Masters of this
salt and sandy universe, this
Erehwon of our short summer
days, blow Boreas, blow more,
blue Zephyros and give us
time to stay, remember names
to scratch in loving letters before
new tides will wash them out and
leave the shore with algae, no
traces more, except in memory.

(tynvdb/280614)