... the old black rum
I stare as they dry and roll to the ground
symmetrical, circular, crystalline shapes
In the blaze of the sun,
like flawed diamonds, reflecting ,
the rainbow as they fall.
Closer I stare and watch their dances
in the ocean breeze
They skip and float on the curves
of their coppertone colored world
Moving and flying and landing
where they know NOT.
Pounded by the ocean to their
cosmic minute existence
I want to brush them aside but,
I dare NOT.
Is it the beauty of the sand
That I see, or the interesting places
They sit on your tan , as you lay
By the ocean in the breeze.
James Parker Haley Feb 16, 2000
[This message has been edited by Haleyja (edited 02-17-2000).]