Spring sun beats down
on my face, waves crash
below
it’s easy to kid ourselves
that summer is nearly here
as we go barefoot in the water.
Up here, the wind is on
my face
my shadows lengthen
seagulls screech up above
and out at sea the water
rocks back and forth.
There is still a chill in the air
and two hopeful surfers bob
out at sea, watching the waves
waiting for the perfect break.
I climb and climb
Until the people on the sand
Are like pin heads.
Tag: sand
I Was Here
To be the first to walk across the golden
sand in the morning, to leave a footprint
pressed into the sand like a memo
I was here
as the sun beams down
and the quiet, golden silence
of the morning is a secret held
by me alone, imprinted on my mind,
my shoes dangling at my side
sand clinging to my wet feet,
and I wish, that I was there again.