Like an heiress, drawn to the light of her
eye-catching jewels, Atlantic draws me
to the mirror of my oceanic small-days.
But the beach is deserted except for a lone
wave of rubbish against the seawall -
used car tyres, plastic bottles, styrofoam cups
rightly tossed back by an ocean's moodswings.
Undisturbed, not even by a sea bird,
I stand under the sun's burning treasury
gazing out at the far-out gleam of Atlantic
before heading back like a tourist
to the sanctuary of my hotеl room
to dwell in the air-conditioned coolnеss
on the quickening years and fate of our planet.