Winter Beach by Lucinda Marshall
Winner Poetry

´╗┐The ice cream parlor and surf shop
have signs in their windows,

Thanks for a great season,
see you next summer!

Only a few old men with scraggly beards
and wind-chapped faces brave the boardwalk,
bundled in their overcoats and caps,

but nothing stops the wind
from stealing through to their bones.

Beyond the little town, the beach lies naked,
stripped down to sand and shells and seagrass,
shorn of its summer wardrobe,

towels, umbrellas, chairs,
all stored away,

no adornment of beach balls
or sandcastles to hide the stark beauty
of morning tide's fierce wisdom.