after Pierre Auguste Renoir’s Seascape
The first wave whirs around in one
long enormous pipe; greens, blues,
and pearly whites froth, thick
with liquidity. The second wave forms
in a ragged rumple. More shift
and shove. On the horizon, a dark band
of rain rises, falls like needles, skims over the main.
Clouds crushed and bruised within reach
of the beach. Licking this lip of dry land,
white caps roll out like laughter
barely averting disaster.