When heat demands escape by any means
The beach would seem a perfect place to turn,
Where ocean breezes cool the space between
The savage sun and water; to discern

If such a trip is wise takes too much time,
And, moment seized, we brave the crowds and sand
To find not only are conditions prime,
They could not be more perfect if we’d planned.

Negative tide: broad flat like antique mirror,
Whose storm-fed swells roll arcs of water shoreward,
Enticing timid beasties to come nearer-
Despite increasing depth, they venture forward.

From joyful play they all too quickly tire,
And somehow sunburned shoulders I acquire.