by Sarah Brown Weitzman
The sea swirls her skirts yesterday
like an angry Spanish woman.
But today she’s quite calm
in a sapphire dress with sequins
winking at the sun. At dusk
she shows her age
gray and wind-wrinkled
as crumpled aluminum foil
On good days she puts on green
and to tease the shore flings
her long white boa at the land,
then snatches it back
while the best the sky can do
is that same old blue.
[More poems by Sarah Brown Weitzman]
