Like a Dalí canvas it fills the eye
with amazing movement.
Supernaturally lit clouds piled rank on rank,
sunrays streaming down like the Fingers of God,
we expect to see Dalí’s beloved Gala
rising from the sea in a giant scallop shell.
The sound of the surf reminds us
to take our eyes from the skies.
Wind is blowing up an angry surf out on the reef.
On the beach, above the waves,
a castoff coconut
attracts a host of moving seashells:
hermit crabs of all sizes, in their homes,
delicately scale the broken husk
to pinch at its white flesh
left behind by other feeders.
Soon the storm will move the banquet,
and chase us back up the beach
to sit on the verandah
of our bungalow
and outlast the battering rain
we can see sweeping towards us,
as we catch one last glimpse
of that sky.
© 2009 Michael Yanega
20 February 2009
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