Crimson next to sun-gold folds stand tall,
They line up straight, o’erseeing seabirds’ calls
Lining beachside snack bar table sides,
Just waiting for the snowbirds to arrive.
Reflections on the beachside bar so clear,
Remind me why I come again each year,
sweetness sweeps my senses through, a tease,
As I Inhale the surf-clean wafting breeze.
Soon the sun will rise to azure skies,
Umbrellas will be opened full and wide,
To welcome snowbirds’ pale skinned face and limbs
Sip Marguerites with salted, icy rims.