Right Coast Sliding Sonnet

fumbling sleepily we pack in the cold
drive east on Route Seven toward Martinique,
waking this early leaves no need to speak
steaming coffee warms fingers left exposed.
sunrise meets bleary eyes on dawn patrol
light plays with the clouds – a slow hide and seek
crunch underfoot sounds ‘midst chattering teeth,
as subzero water swallows us whole.
waves crash down heavily, three feet at eight
I stare out, waiting, for swell to appear –
a smooth curl by which I can be propelled
l’eau and behold, it’s delivered by fate,
with spray-tickled eyes and a frigid cheer
I slide, ensconced, in a watery spell.