The Red Umbrella

 

The Red Umbrella

Beneath a hazy heat

I hear a seagul's cry rise and fall,

perhaps searching for a mate,

his swooping shadow a puppet

prancing upon windswept dune

where our footprints

once burned a path to the shore,

our cries of laughter

a courtship of sorts.

Our oasis a red umbrella.

Wind cooled our skin,

sun kissed our toes,

"Oh!  What will I do

there

without my hands

upon your summer face?"

I follow the tide, 

allow it to swallow

all evidence I've returned,

leave behind the sancutary

I unpacked.

Let it disappear,

become a speckle

amongst the rainbow

of covers, of lovers.

Wish the seagulls

could pluck my heart,

carry it up and away.

by Margaret Bednar, October 15, 2025

This is linked with "dVerse Poets Prosery - Oh, Umbrellas" where we needed to use the phrase "What will I do there without my hands upon your summer face?"