Crisp

Crests of cloud and wave akin
Brush nonce and ever so
Carefully caress one another
In the symphony of morning
As a light breeze whisps and whips
At tendrils of mist
That finger out to touch the
Dawning sun
Pearly white against the
Brooding clouds that coast atop
The dunes
And winters crisp hold takes
Its grip once more
Comforting
And carries me into the water