blue wind

nothing you can do with
wind
at the shore.
hands in pockets, the waves
slapping madly
into one another.
the rake of gusts out
across the sick green
of sea.
not a gull in sight.
not a soul
lying, or sitting warmly
against wet sand,
the sky and mood less
light than dark. there
are better things to do
than plow forward
against such might.