Poem or simply a report

Rachel and I are given to occasional spur of the moment walks by the ocean or in a wooded conservation area.  We both have an ability to spontaneously stop the routines and do something that will give us delight, joy, pleasure.  Usually we walk in the morning or afternoon but a few days ago it was evening, about 6:30. The following is more a report of what we saw than a real poem, but it's an accurate report. The photo above is a morning picture of the same beach.

Evening Beach Walk

A rare evening seaside stroll

Directly into the flare of setting sun

The water side sand is tracked and broken

By restless vacationers’ tramping

Leaving the beach empty for us.

On the horizon half a dozen sailboats,

in a fading sky under a vague full moon

so pale it might be on a painted scrim.

Four spaced out gulls in standing meditation

Are unaware of people passing.

The sun sinks completely behind a pillow

Of shore trees but the sand reflects sky light

While sea-spewed mists becomes pink

As a baby’s toenail shading to mauve

As it blends into a bluer sky; the tints

reflect on the horizon. The passing day

Holds its breath, the moon has become

A round of marbled blue cheese.

The sailboats have sailed away.