Beach Boys
Trevor Conway

They treat waves like prey,
patient as predators
sifting through the herds of the ocean
until a worthy target dashes
towards the glory of shore.
 
Each waits, clutching a board,
claims a patch that will soon deliver
a moment of semi-divine status.
They watch the current ripen to their liking
across the bright shroud of sea.
 
One stalks low,
pushing against a nascent wave.
With quick, clumsy skill, he’s upright,
borne on the back of a world
that just might shrug him off.
 
Possibility is a spectrum of light
we see sharper than most species:
what could be more human
than watching the charge of water
and suspecting it could somehow be tamed?
 
The surfers wade deeper,
while the dry stranded, with sand-stubbled feet,
wonder how cold it really could be.
Some of us wait for warmth,
others for the push of bigger waves.

 


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​                                                                                                                 SEPT 2026