by Earl J. Wilcox
Beach walking today--shifting sands impressionable
under my feet---I see two women Marines strolling,
holding hands, USMC stamped on black tees taut
against their chests, a slight breeze ruffling the air.
Following at a short distance, I take fright when a middle
finger is flashed in their faces by a jeering jogger,
though other beach loungers ignore the pair. The women
face straight ahead, march like good Marines, smile
at toddlers building castles in the sand where
grandpas play Corn Hole, grandmas read Romances.
Earl J. Wilcox writes about aging, baseball, literary icons, politics, and southern culture. His work appears in more than two dozen journals; he is a regular contributor to The New Verse News. More of Earl's poetry appears at his blog, Writing by Earl.
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