Sea Glass

The smell was in the air tonight,

drifting in on an eastern wind

recalling those summers at the Cape.

We’d walk along the shore, collecting

shells and bits of colored glass,

watching the sun wrap itself in threads

of peach and pink and purple and gray

before slipping slowly past the horizon.

A chorus of crickets would be heard,

mixed with raucous laughter that trickled

down from the road and tickled our ears

as cars cruised by, windows open,

searching for relief in the cool night air.

Up the lane colorful lights beckoned to the line

forming outside the ice cream shack,

frosty reprieve on a warm summer's eve.

One of the great unproven laws of physics is

that the closer you get to the beach,

the longer the days seem to stretch.

We’d finally crawl off to bed, our

sunburnt bodies finding cool respite

between soft cotton sheets.

If we listen carefully, we can hear the sound

of the waves kissing the shore; as the

warm breeze rustling through the trees

calls us back to the sea once more.

 © Ginny Brannan 2018

Cape Cod near Harwichport, MA 2016

Top Image: Seamarias/Etsy

Bottom Image by author, taken on Cape Cod.