Cool water seeping through my socks.
Footprints thundering on the rocks compared to
the soft swish of water as it slides over
the smooth crystal sand.
The sun,
even though it is 92.96 million miles from earth,
I can still feel it’s blanket of warmth,
that makes me feel so safe.
I hear the birds,
their piercing calls
do not damage the silence.
But those footprints,
always the footprints,
a soft marching on the ground.
Marching to an unforeseen beat,
a slow beat,
a fast beat,
a quick beat,
a quiet beat.
I witness a mallard duck
stirring up the water while entering the cold fluid
that covers what used to be a place of evil
and greed.
Fish now swim on that place
and geese call it home.
I also spot a wood brown rabbit,
nibbling on some dandelions
that feed off the fluids nutrients.
That H20 amazes me,
it’s a murky aqua,
almost like the sky on a bright sunny day,
it gives life,
and laughter of the children.
Which reminds me of the slow beat,
the never going,
never ceasing,
making my mind crazy beat,
that never goes away.
But in this quiet place
I can look overlook the beat
and instead hear
the birds chirping,
the water swishing,
and the wood brown rabbit nibbling
on the soft green dandelion leaves.