May of a seacoast town
is dark, gray and dank until
the sun burns through
the marine layer;
morning is the time
to visit the coastline
gray and dank before
the sun burns through;
nary a soul but you
walks the beach;
a large black dog runs
up to the incoming tide,
barks furiously at small waves
crashing down,
then retreating fast away
to repeat the frenzy
again and again
while you walk away
along the south facing beach
toward the west
and the sea,
always toward the sea.