NaPoWriMo Day 11: I've Always Been Jealous of Places With Nice Beaches

From a Log at North Beach in January

Here is the sand under my fingertips

Sharp grains like gourmet pepper

In every color of gray

The wind rotten fish and drying seaweed

Cold salt and wet sour tang

Above me, the gray-blue sky falling to meet blue-gray sea

A single seagull floats, balanced on air

While sand fleas pop out from under driftwood

Like so many frozen snakes

Where did my life go wrong?

This was a fun prompt! We were told to write "a poem in which you closely describe an object or place, and then end with a much more abstract line that doesn’t seemingly have anything to do with that place", such as this wonderful poem by James Wright. I miss the beach.