A Sunny November

Sunshine in November—pure bliss, and by the sea, it feels divine. No cold to grumble over, no wind shrieking through my ears, no icy hiss to splinter sound.

Just warmth glistening on my cheeks, the sun a gentle kiss of gold, as we sink into deck chairs, dreaming of happiness, joy, and sweet, euphoric peace.

Seagulls drift above our heads, frail wings of vulnerability, scavenging the salted air for fragments of food of what’s left—and we, below, pretend we don't wish they'd go away.

Salt air rests upon my tongue—a memory of summers past, maybe of summers yet to come.

The tide hums its steady lullaby, each swell a breath, each sigh a promise that even in November, life remembers warmth.

We speak in half-whispers, not wanting to disturb the moment—the kind of stillness that feels like prayer.

Time loosens its grip; the world softens at the edges. Here, between sea and sky, I remember what it means to simply be.

© Copyright Denise Larkin 2025. All Rights Reserved.

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