Small crystals of salt jab my skin
ping my not so waterproof parka
bubble the sand, splatter the grey sea silver.
On the tartan car rug we huddle into ourselves
I feign immunity to forces of nature
toss damp scraps at advancing gulls
watch the bossy one scolding
feeding on power.
Not a he, you state with authority
a female attempting control.
Too large for a she I avoid saying
not wanting to quarrel.
Light seeps through clouds
though the rain continues.
I pour tea from the thermos
unwrap pieces of ginger slice.
You stand, arms wide, a messiah
announce to the birds
Ah,beach picnics; nothing better!
Light weakens, wind grows colder.
I hear close cawing, slipping of wings.
Through the car window
gulls grow smaller
the contentious one, like your father.