Pearlescent foam,
snow-dusted to Scott horizon,
frosted waves.

I can't stop staring.
The sky is a crib
brightened
with milk-whitened lace.
The sun is quilt-shrouded,
tucked in tight,
safe in a superfluity of mosquito netting.

Gods must be breakfasting,
it is all egg white omelette sky,
lone yolk - light-poached
sits centre of plate.

Off
in far distance,
a shape moves oily on shore,
strange-shape-shifting.
The eye is kept busy
frown-interpreting.
Sometimes cobra, hooded and rearing,
then slow-dissolve
to long, crooked-neck-cormorant, preening.
Could even conceivably be
black garbage bag animated
by trickling, trickster breeze.

Closeness resolves
otterish-whiskered, grooming seal
lying languid
as mermaids are depicted,
fish-torso
odalisqued to sea.
So weary
is he,
he blinks grandpa-bleary,
does not scat.
Flipper-arms elbow-prop
resting as if at bar, waiting for pint.
Head wobbles
nodding-dog-drunken -
dead tired, huh?
Canine yawn uncovers a cavernous red, ridged palette -
ooohhggghhmmm - yup!

Polite, fish bone tracks
will I make,
mate,
wide-berthing your sanctuary,
leaving you in peace.

Blizzard sky is shape-shifting now, too
an ecstasy of scattering.
Forget-me-not blue - not-forgotten
peaking finally through.

Platinum water, cold-waved

discovers
the delights of rinse-blue.