Reynolds Channel Still Life Before the Storm
alan catlin
Storm clouds crest the grass tipped dunes
rolling inland from the sea. On the Short Beach
shore the last boaters heed storm warnings, pack
worn Army blankets, plastic toys, wicker picnic
baskets in the stern of an outboard boat.
Worried women gathered sunburned children,
strapping on their sodden orange Mae West life
jackets, listen as the men drink the last of their
7 Crown from a dark pint bottle they toss against
gray jetty rocks, washing the whiskey down with
warm no label beer, mocking their wives: “Bunch of
women. Worried over nothing. A little rain
never hurt no one.” Later, caught in the channel
riptide, buffeted by the sweeping rush of white
capped waves, they can see the torrential rain
as it hits the beach, moving in close over the water,
and, then, the lightning.
