The sea that flows,
No rhyme, no reason,
The howl grows,
Its not the seaoson.
With no push or shove it carries on,
Silica in the air settles on cheeks,
The sun blazes, sweat colours the textile lawn,
Wet shirt; I could be one among the freaks.
Sky lights up,
Crows the unusual entertainers,
Its a full story, not a stub,
Head rests on my hands; just the manners.