Down On The Beach Poem by Mary Champion

There's a gath'ring of angels down on the beach
But they're heralding nothing, have not come to preach,
they're sandcastle building with celestial flair,
they are feeling the ocean breeze blow in their hair.
The daring dip holy toes into the brine,
some are sampling ice cream - a divine ninety-nine.
It's their annual outing - a day off from work
per their terms of employment it's just one small perk -
a reward for the eons and eons they pass
serenading a Lord who's a pain in the arse.