The waves in the fading sun are purple.
They glow with the light of the bright sun setting.
If it wasn’t freezing it could be a tropical island.
That time of day when the sun goes down
And the music comes on, and everyone heads to the thatch-roof cabana
For a cocktail.
And the beach, in the soft yellow light of the sunset,
Is the most beautiful.
The waves are like a latte made by the most skilled barista.
They crash, and then they bubble bubble bubble,
Just like the milk steamer stirring up the surface of the milk.
And then they settle into a smooth, soft foam, with just the tiniest air bubbles.
The sheen on the waves as they flow back out
Like the shining surface of my latte.