A woman strolls down near the daylit pier.
Her wandering search among the wavy grains
leads her into the saltmarsh cordgrasses
under a ripened oak’s graciously bent arms.
She enters through, and on into the autumn gold.
The blowy salesman breathes,
“We have all sorts of shades,
in this lovely time of year.
But please, take your time,
in this lovely time of year.”
She returns with tuft of seedy sea-stalk.
Feathers her toy across the park sign’s stained wood.
She smiles and struts with her new toy in hand,
as she wanders back up the daylit beach sands.