I watched him build a crescent moon
Of sand upon the beach and soon
Saw what the rampart’s purpose was –
To cancel out the slope because
The late October sun was low
And very soon would only throw
A little warmth on those who lay
Upon the beach the normal way;
Its rays, the beach now parallel.
I felt it was, though, just as well
That visitors were now so few
The lovely, sweeping beach-length view
Would otherwise – so ran my thoughts –
Be just a mass of mini forts
Since each such ridge as it was made
Would cast its own unwelcome shade
And force a neighbour to reply
With his own ridge at least as high –
As nothing is more potent than
A tourist’s urge to get a tan.
This time, however, just the one
And when it all is said and done
It’s certain winter winds and rain
Will flatten out the beach again.
