The wave curls over,
a piece of sea-glass, hard and ceramic
blown with the salty sea-spray.
The glacier sheets evolve with the moon –
her lunar inconsistencies, her nightly mood swings.
Tonight’s temperament is phlegmatic
Cold and sickly,
wet and unpleasantly froggy:
that terrible, throaty influenza itch
The slushy foam is tulle.
The sky observes it in turmoil
It is that time of year again:
brought to a boil.