The tide turns
The blanket spread out on the sand
Is safe again

Tiny creatures
Scurry in the fading foam
To not be left behind

The shadows shift
To prove the sun still moves
Across the sky

And Parasols
Need careful rearranging
One more time

Suntan oil
Long ago all washed away
From skin now turning red

The wind arrives
To blow sand across the food
Left open on the blanket

Seagulls squawk
And battle over seaweed
Hiding a dead fish

A perfect day
Except that I’m not there -
I’m here.

ljm