Ocean Views

Waves crash, exhausted, foaming at the mouth.
My footprints turning into shallow graves.
So angry, the Atlantic. Further south,
some harbor the illusion it behaves

like always, but the churning sand can tell.
The hermit crabs, they too make their regrets
and hasten to avoid each coming swell.
Escape, that's if the surging ocean lets.

A lonely seagull grabs a plastic cup.
Triumphant, it will launch into the fray,
so confident it's had enough to sup.
The salty water helps it down its prey.

Walk over, and the waves regain their blues.
They're putting up new condos, ocean views.