Ocean City Poet (One Stop- picture prompt)

Photo by Fee Easton

Lost on a desert island,
rolling,
wind shaped dunes,
two battered skiffs
grounded
on vanilla beach
of finely crushed stone.

The sea,
brilliant blue,
gem-like,
gently rising,
falling
as it breathes.

The sand,
singing solo in offshore winds,
clean shaven and barren,
captive,
between
searing sun
and gentle waves.

The survivors,
tattered Khaki pants,
barefoot,
unbuttoned,
white sweat-stained shirts,
tattooed crosses,
on reddened skin ...

“Enough, Judith, can’t we ever just come to the beach?  This is Jersey for crying out loud.”