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April in Palos Verdes |
Easter is a pretty pink ruffly dress,
After the golden egg hunt we hold hands
and go to the warn beach.
This spring, the ocean is as cruel as April.
Big breakers defy the King Harbor sea wall.
High tide leaps stones that can not hold back
tomorrow or tomorrow or tomorrow.
Storm warning flags flap and rip in the wind.
Even gulls and pelicans are grounded,
flocked together on the cliffs and sandy shoreline.
Big waves have their white caps on.
If the wave caps were printed with messages
like advertising baseball caps they might have outdated
sayings like “Old Timer,” or “Over the Hill,”
nothing as flattering as “Spring Chicken.”
No wonder Shakespeare tells us, “April is the cruelest
month."
What we really want to wear is “Kowabunga Dude.”
We look forward to fireworks but every Fourth of July
is followed by falling leaves.
Too soon it is too late and too cold for Micky Mouse ears
or a teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini.
copyright 2013
Wanda
Vanhoy Smith |
