In this crossroads of transition
we arrive for two stolen days
in this place of endless childhood,
with forgotten habits of playfulness.
across low tide stretches of sand
our plastic sacks filling with debris and garbage
left here by the waves.
Our inquisitive eyes finding baby mussels,
barnacles, and a partially decomposed seal.
We hike, shovel in hand
on a wild goose chase for
native blueberry bushes
hidden across the dunes.
We find only endless roads,
and pools of stagnant water.
So instead we kick off our shoes
filled with the barefoot glee of toes deep
in the sand.
Later we lie perpendicular on the dock
basking in the April sun.
We dunk, briefly and delightedly into the
This here seeming the height of spring luxury.
We eat in all the in-between doing things times
beet green fritters.
filled with all the grit we need to get through today;
perhaps even enough for tomorrow.