a breeze without force
ever so quietly
against the backdrop
of the ocean's roars,
stimulates the flaps
of the umbrella as it
travels underneath its dome;
sand reflects the sun
against sunscreen bodies
of foreigners whose travels
intentionally brought them
to these southeastern shores;
clad only in their underclothes
these ancient white sands
as if as new warriors they
bring a purpose gazing out
at the endless water and the
horizon belt that separates it
from the rest of the world and the
light blue sky tucked in behind it;
human animals stand knee
deep in the water cooling off
their extremities allowing the sun
to bake them in a Dutch oven day
while Conestoga carts pulled by male mules
through the sand bring the tools of
the tourist trade to these shores as
watch the entertainment through
their relaxed, sun baked eyes,
remembering their own journey
when the crowds were not so large;
colorful circular disks spin as
they float through the air,
hovering majestically at their destinations
and are returned by the receiver
who automatically becomes the sender
by a snappy flick of the wrist;
sunglasses hide the eye's lies
when they gaze at the strollers and
those unabashedly bending over
oblivious to the set of circumstances
they have set in motion, but,
those not gazing are reading or using
technology to pass the time since
there is precious little else to do.
June 22, 2020
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