A1A

[alonso ramoran]

There's the crackled twang
of Carbono's guitar, as he sings "La Playa"
to passing palm and leafless shrubs
and to houses that no longer loom
in guard of the shore. Now, we can feel

the sunlight on our faces, black and brown,
with bare feet crossed outside the window,
and hands gliding in the salty wind. We breathe
freely, and stir the sea oats in the dunes.

[Torkelburger]

Beautiful scene you've depicted with the senses. Perhaps a more cohesive title?