Summer in the South is both friend and foe alike
The sun kisses our skin and turns us bronze
It boils the air
And clings to us
The trees and bushes grow tangled
Gnats eat all that is moving alive
Flowers paint the ditches rainbow
And the roses bloom their hearts out
Without a single umbrella
No volleyball nets
Or lifeguard towers
A beach with sea oats
And dunes
Of real sand, not bleached white
A wild beach
Untamed
Untouched
By humanity’s lust
For the fake
No less than this
Will I take
I want a beach
That is real
Not a postcard
With picturesque
Palm trees
It’s up to you
If you want yours
Fake
However, I will always feel
That beaches should be kept real
Verse Not Prose 