GALE

GALE

Tempestuous waves thrash the sullen shore

As bloated raindrops plash pockmarks in the sand.

The flavor of salt and seaweed permeate the air,

Borne on howling, racing winds –

The Gale wreaks its wrath.

This entry was posted in America, Beauty, Poetry, Thoughts & Musings and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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