by Yvette Durham

Created on: May 11, 2010

The newborn sun is flossy:

A maize-yellow orb,

obscured by smoky whispers of cloud,

floating on a denim blue sea.

A clean baby blue

palette of sky is its

backdrop

into which the sun’s gurgles out its

golden dazzle.

I inhale its tranquility, its

perfection.

My seated weight settles on vertical arms,

legs folded up, allowing my toes to

knead,

dive,

into powdery sand;

cool

and exfoliating.

Hollow is this scene from childish squeals;

lycra-filled bodies, garish fluorescent hues of

beach towels, windbreakers. Free from sunken deckchairs

submerged with lathered white bodies of Grandparents, sun-hatted and

absent; smiling into glitzy summer reads.

Thankfully, I am alone.

But not without

Company:

The sea breathes in

and

out

melodically

on the shore,

massaging my spirit.

Residual waves are

churned bubbles,

soaking into the shoreline sand.

A wheeze of air

kisses

my lips

with a salty trace.

I close my eyes,

drop

the muscles of my face,

and

sink into

a

noiseless

mind.   

  

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