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The Beach in the Gulf |
Barefoot, toes sinking into the sand, brought wagon with lawn chair and water, an umbrella to protect my tan, in case it becomes any hotter. At the edge of the ocean I sit, waves crashing with the incoming tide, seagulls above me, hover and flit, through the sky they effortlessly glide. Sounds of children on the beach playing, making sandcastles with little pails. "Look what I've made," I hear them saying. Off in the distance a catbird wails. A blue heron stands down by the pier, waiting for his chance to strike a fish. He wanders off when someone comes near. I guess today he won't get his wish. Airplanes above with banners galore, advertising restaurants and events. Swimmers with floats, boards, and so much more, for the shack is full of stuff to rent. I feel so sleepy, here on the beach. In the warm, salty air, I relax. I'm thirsty, for some water I reach, the burning sun melted my ice pack. Ships and boats out on the horizon, floating as if on the world's thin edge, bobbing down and once again risin' haphazardly balanced on its ledge. Late afternoon the beach becomes still, and yet there's so much to see, I stay. A pelican sits on post until, he flies off after spotting some prey. And then I see the playful dolphins. Several of them, flying through the air, in unison, they've practiced often. So amazed, all I could do was stare. Finally, just before pink sun setting. I decide it's time to call the day, but my heart knows there's no forgetting, this experience in my mind will stay. Now, from my window I watch palm trees their spiky leaves performing a dance, gently swaying in the island breeze. lulling me into a peaceful trance. 44 Lines |