Quoddy Storm

 mounded waves
birth vehemence
against craggy shore.
the same genesis of ache
over and over, stolid
in an amphitheater of fog.
and yet the granite audience
stands unimpressed.
only a seal gestures kindly
with its nose.
nothing endures
except simple grays of cold anger,
a furious status quo
of rock, sea and squall.
in such nude
childish protest,
only the seal has grace.
dozens of waves
batter themselves
against its eye.