Water cascades against variegated slate outcroppings below her. Powerful waves recede, water slides down jagged
outcroppings to form hundreds of brilliant
little waterfalls, the water left behind chasing its mother-wave back to the sea.

I imagine Poseidon far below,
orchestrating the tide in its desire
to grab and take beneath its depths unsuspecting victims, mesmerized
by the ebb and flow of a cerulean,
but sinister sea.

His booming laughter reverberates
with each crash of an angry wave
against the packed and windswept
shore. Small sand whirls emerge
created by thousands upon thousands
of tiny Coquina clams burrowing home.

A seagull squawks in irritation,
a stronger, bigger bird stealing
it’s food treasure. More and more
seagulls circle above, their cacophony
drowning out any semblance of true
communication within the flock.

Weary of the bickering and noise,
Poseidon raises his trident to the skies,
summoning dark clouds, wind, rain
and his electrifying lightening to rid
his shore of friend, foe and fowl.
Time to go home.