Blue skies.
In parts filled
with soft, wispy, white.
A great, warm, yellow ball,
heating the earth below.
Crystal water, moving slowly,
then quickening,
turning white and crashing,
over and over.
The sound rushing over your ears,
like the water on the earth.
The smallest of white rocks
and pieces of shells,
so small, in fact,
that the details can’t be seen.
Just like grains of salt.
Buried feet,
splashing,
the sound of gulls,
the scent of salt and sun,
fill you up and warm you,
making you feel brighter
than the light reflecting off the water
and the white sand.