To the southeast, outlines of Perkins Cove stare – like a voyeur
with open eyes blind to half-naked swimmers and intermediate
Surfers who ride roaring waves back to the fading hairline
of shore – low tide where…
crowds of footprints trace
the fingerprints of adult children tossing Frisbees
and aiming colors of balls in the challenge of Bocce.

In front of me, a young girl is covered in sand; blanketed
by the earths clay, she giggles as this perfect day absorbs the childhood
of relaxation. And there are many sand castles built through
the foundation of creativity showcasing the ability of the mind’s
hands when it is at ease
resting in the temperature of summer’s breeze
as it breathes; a feeling that feels so good as it blows through me
temporarily drying drizzles of sweat
off my forehead
as five o’clock shadows descend
down upon this unity of lifestyles;

a sea of poetry journaling right at the fingertips
of my consciousness.
© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan