Roaring rollers

Rough is the sea when a storm has brewed
Roaring rollers tumble to the shore,
Thick and yellow sea-foam shimmies
From the wind that chills the core.
Surfers line up but only watch
Seeing debris and logs bobbing with menace,
They will wait a day or two
Stranded on land is to be their penance.
Meanwhile sand blasts bare legs
Salt spray invades mouth and eyes,
That howling wind threatens eardrums
And cuts off seagulls' cries.
They try to land one foot touches sand
Tail feathers working hard,
But the beach belongs to the wind today
And the writings of a bard.