Here on the coast there are breezes, always.
Slow and quiet in the mornings,
loud and volatile in late afternoons.
They bring in salt air, seagulls and heavy clouds.

8 months a year the wind is Southern, as
flags stiffen, wind chimes clammer and screen doors bounce,
beach children stretch their kites to the sky,
and empty paper cups dance across the boardwalk.

This is my home, this is my breeze.
I know only hot afternoons and warm nights.
hurricane warnings do not frighten me.
In my life, sudden change is part of every waking moment.

_{for oenone and the residents of the beaches}