Mexican Wave

I watched some of the opening match in the FIFA World Cup last night.  This morning, the last time I'll eat breakfast looking at the lake outside our cabin, the wind reminded me of the roar of the crowd.  

Mexican Wave

Watching the wind
Chase a Mexican wave
Along the whippy trees
Round the lake,
Listening to its roar
As it rushes from behind, 
Building through the woods
With nowhere to go
But to bluster on 
Along the bank,
Roaring its approval
At its great escape.
Wrapping myself tight 
As the temperature drops
Before the next shower,
The companiable warmth 
Of my breakfast coffee mug 
Bids me to stay here, watching, 
For just a little longer.

© Copyright 2026. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved.

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