Beach Day

The rushing filled my ears as we tiptoed over branches,

the fine sand trickling between our toes. 

The movement was constant, reassuring. 

We stood where the blue water and white foam crashed over the yielding shore.

I closed my eyes against the motion and imagined myself on a boat way out there,

floating easily on the surface.

The scorching heat beckoned us to stay outdoors

and apply layer upon layer of protection,

huddle under umbrellas the moment we emerged from the refreshing water

and ran over burning shore.

The people were necessary ambient sound;

laughter from escaped children and roaring of obnoxious businessmen set free this day

to forget the stress of the office and relax against the lulling

with a favourite book, pretend castle, or volleyball match.

The full reach of the day marked by the arc of the sun in a cloudless sky,

settling on the blue horizon with grace,

like the cosmos dipping an orange in Gatorade.

The hush of the crowd fell

as families with red-tipped noses retreated before the dark.

The waves fell still too;

I admired the vastness, tired eyes open for one beat too little.

We had to leave the beach behind.