Saturday, July 17, 2021




A trip to the ocean. A secluded cove with a slatted pergola, wooden tables and benches, an outhouse. A stone wall separates this area from the beach. Uneven steps lead down to a narrow strip of sand, accessible only at low tide. No hawking vendors, no swings or amusements for children, no crowds. Gulls, sand, sea, rocks. Dad’s favorite beach.


shirtless again

splashing vinegar

on his sunburned back



Magyar said...

__ Beautiful memory verse, Adelaide; often, I wander back to an older time and find that, that joy of then is not the same as the joy of now. In this now, there is my glee of being thankful for these 79 years of open eyes, open mind, and open heart. _m

nothing is the same
even that, that hasn't changed
sings another song

Adelaide said...

Beautifully expressed, Doug. We change, even if what we revisit hasn't.