With Nothing More Than Sand
Sandcastles
I watched him work so feverishly,
Digging up the sand.
Imagination was his ruler.
It had only to command.
The hole he dug was three feet deep,
With sand hills piled around.
He shaped a little “sand” seat
In the wall just off the ground.
Next, he took the tapered pail,
And filled it to the brim.
Then with a swinging motion,
He pounded out the rim.
With seashells now around the base,
And a banner on the top,
He scraped the sand to form a door,
And said, “At last, I’ll stop!”
Then as a last decision,
With the shovel in his hand,
He carved his name for all to see
On his castle in the sand.
About the Creator
Margaret Brennan
I am a 76 year old grandmother who loves to write, fish, and grab my camera to capture the beautiful scenery I see around me.
My husband and I found our paradise in Punta Gorda Florida where the weather always keeps us guessing.
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A Few Moments More
You’ll give it one more minute, and then you’re headed back inside. It’s pretty chilly out, after all. Not that that’s a real issue - you’ve stood out here for longer, and in colder weather. The snow is nearly gone already; tiny, dirt-stained islands of the stuff form a shrinking archipelago dotting the sea of green that is your backyard. Striations of sunlight dance through the trees at the edge of the woods and paint the scene in a camouflage of brown, green, and gold.
By Gabriel Huizenga4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
I love this. Well done! (Subscribed)