The Gulf In Winter Is Another Lover

In summer, full of feeling. 

The congregation of swimmers cajoled, 

Her waters were warm and embracing. 

The dolphin's leap, the sea turtles sweep. 

Both bird and kite radiate inside this levity. 

She is bright, she is brimming.

In winter, the feeling of leaving. 

The waves withdraw, leaving a scrawl in salt on the flat beach, 

A verse she has written but won't repeat. 

The seagulls hang low as if to console the weeping. The bright now jaded, sedated. Monochrome the surf, the sand, the ceiling.

The Gulf in winter, the lover preferred. For, if you can stand your warmth's leaching, you may seek, at her horizon's lip, her lament. A song of a time long spent when you were a part of her humming. The breadth and depth of which, a secret's revealing.