Wracked by weekend storms,
The ocean froths, spumes, leaps and flops, creating
A foamscape of brief forms,
Of light-spark-pointed crests and blebby webs
Of white that last until the flecked wind ebbs,
And as it’s dissipating—
Only to surge once more
In bursts that bleach the sea and blanch the air—
I who observe from shore
Come to imagine giant fingertips
Combing, disquietly as the same wind whips,
The marled uncombable mane
Of an old man’s white hair.
Published in the January 2024 issue: View Contents