A poem for summer
Half the joy lay
nestled (in the
planning), packing
of provisions;buns and butter,
ham and cheese with holes,
cucumber slices,
bottled water, and
soda in a can, chilled,
huddled in a cooler.
Incessant chatter of the
grandkids, effervescent,
lotioned, sandalled, each
buttressed in broad-rimmed
hats. Checkered tablecloth,
red and white, six clips to hold
it tight, prevent the plastic
taking flight. Folding chairs in
bags, stuffed and strapped—
blue wagon pulled behind.
Early morning hour offers early
bird the worm, staking claim:
prime real estate, a cherished
spot with trees, a patch of grass,
full view of a khaki-colored beach,
turquoise water lapping, licking
yesterday’s sandcastles, structured
in a C. No peace be had, yank
T-shirts, dress went flying, “Come
Opa!” the collective call, “And Oma
too!” She laughs and waves them
on, youthful stampeders racing
through the waves. Splashing for
two hours, small enough to still
wear floating things, (in delightful
neon colors.) Lips turned blue
and fingers into raisins—time
for tea and tender towels. At last
a sun, burst from hiding, bathe clad
and semi-clad with golden gloss.
Umbrellas—colors of a
rainbow snap and zing, jangle
in the breeze scattered ‘cross
the sand where ladies in bikinis,
bronze limbs and partial-covered
breasts, lounge, and sigh on towels,
rubbing lotion, endless motion,
enough to mirror clouds. Seven
men, a single lass, spike ball
across a net, diving sideways,
spitting sand. A day with sun and
sand and sunscreen begs for ice
cream in a cone, a scoop of mint,
(or choc’late), “please, can I have two?”
Her little hands drenched in melting
taste of heaven, lips, and chin a mess,
unable to hold stable, the sliding precipice,
plops to the thirsty sand. Cheeks all wet,
a gull cries overhead—it’s time to wrap
it up and greet the dazzling day.
Have a wonderful and blessed summer!
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Image credit: Danie Botha