Post by AquarianM on Sep 14, 2008 at 3:39pm
Soft Water Blue...
At the beach house again,
Low and slow waves of relaxation,
Young relatives leaving as we arrive,
Passing each other on the sandy path that leads to and from the beach,
"Beach switch" they call it.
The sky starts off cloudless,
Sunshine ripples on calm waters,
Seventy shades of blue and waves topping at one and a half feet.
Plant a folding chair in the yellow-tan sand,
Take off the last vestiges of the modern world,
Except your suit.
The water is chill at first,
Ice lapping slowly up from feet to waist as you wade in,
At some point near there it's just too much,
You have to dive and get it over.
Swimming long and cool,
The waves and boat wakes push you down the beach,
Splashing against your face every now and then,
Reminder of the Lake's power.
As you stare out where sky meets seemingly endless water,
You remember the school of minnows that dodged your feet as you waded in.
Sea gulls glide overhead and float on the waves,
Their brothers and sisters scamper about the beach.
Sun hats and beach chairs dot the sand for more than a mile in either direction.
There is a thick haze on the Western horizon,
It cocoons you into a world of sand and grass and blue and breeze.
People walk dogs up and down the lapping waves,
A cigarette boat roars colorful across the horizon.
You sit drying in the hot sun,
Sand squeezed between your toes,
Absorbing every moment you can steal or beg - just being.
A cheeky sea gull waddles around your chair,
Curious but not quite close.
A wall of clouds covers the evening sun,
You pack up and climb sand for a shower.
It's just begun.
AquarianM
© 09/02/2008
By: Daniel A. Stafford
*Notes from last week vacation.
At the beach house again,
Low and slow waves of relaxation,
Young relatives leaving as we arrive,
Passing each other on the sandy path that leads to and from the beach,
"Beach switch" they call it.
The sky starts off cloudless,
Sunshine ripples on calm waters,
Seventy shades of blue and waves topping at one and a half feet.
Plant a folding chair in the yellow-tan sand,
Take off the last vestiges of the modern world,
Except your suit.
The water is chill at first,
Ice lapping slowly up from feet to waist as you wade in,
At some point near there it's just too much,
You have to dive and get it over.
Swimming long and cool,
The waves and boat wakes push you down the beach,
Splashing against your face every now and then,
Reminder of the Lake's power.
As you stare out where sky meets seemingly endless water,
You remember the school of minnows that dodged your feet as you waded in.
Sea gulls glide overhead and float on the waves,
Their brothers and sisters scamper about the beach.
Sun hats and beach chairs dot the sand for more than a mile in either direction.
There is a thick haze on the Western horizon,
It cocoons you into a world of sand and grass and blue and breeze.
People walk dogs up and down the lapping waves,
A cigarette boat roars colorful across the horizon.
You sit drying in the hot sun,
Sand squeezed between your toes,
Absorbing every moment you can steal or beg - just being.
A cheeky sea gull waddles around your chair,
Curious but not quite close.
A wall of clouds covers the evening sun,
You pack up and climb sand for a shower.
It's just begun.
AquarianM
© 09/02/2008
By: Daniel A. Stafford
*Notes from last week vacation.
