the zipper waves open and close
move side to side
they break
they surf
they sing
remind you that they can rip (take)
take the children with them
as the last of the pink clouds leave
they roll out as you roll in
turns the tye dye sky from cotton candy purples
to an inky grey
a scrolling search
that stays
that says
rain, lightening, thunder
its coming, its here
you better switch your suit
play your cards
call what's trump
or lose her to the magic
of imagination
of chants and spells cast by little girls
who sit (squat) on the edge of the water
directly in the path of the setting sun
arms raised, summoning the wind that whips their hair
manifesting waves
digging holes in wet sunken sand
burying rocks, twigs, shells and broken bits of beak