When Odd Beliefs Are Useful

I’m sitting in hot sand,
Bright sunlight on my face,
A warmth of gentle breeze
Against my skin,
My heels cooled by blue surf
Rolling up the jam-packed beach.

A hundred radios and players
Babble music up and down the shore,
None of which I want to hear
Upon this radiant day,
While people mob the gentle water
Looking for relief from temperature,

And all that I can think
As a pack of pretty girls strolls by
Is how nice the afternoon would be
If all these
Throngs of crowding people
Simply went away.

Then on the northern
Rim of crowded world
Far out, where inland sea and sky
Blur into one,
Storm clouds start to pile high;

Sheets of rain slant down
Through bright blue distant
Arcs of searing lightning
That flash across
The darkened sky.

Thunder rolls in seconds later,
Quiet with long distance,
Then the whistles start
To call the hordes of bathers
Back onto the beach

The PA system then declares
“The beach is closing down’
And as it loudly blares
A single errant cloud
Gently drifts across the sun

Before too long
The beach has emptied
The blaring music vanished
With the throngs of fleeing people;
I look up and down now-lonely dunes
To find myself almost alone.

I pour myself a glass of wine
And take it to the water’s edge;
The single errant cloud is gone,
And distant storm as rolled away
As I face the silent north.

I pour a drink for ageless Llyr
Into His quiet water
Then take a sip myself,
An appreciative libation
Before I start to scribble this,
Because, sometimes,
It’s good to have the ear
Of an ancient ocean God.