A Beach In Summer

Who loves those days when the sun is hazed and the seas unruffled with its mirrored glaze showing every ripple and fish that moves in the currents stream swept surface ooze. And the tide on the beach treads soft and slow leaving hardly a footprint as it goes where the dark sand that each sea fall makes is quickly absorbed to its flaxen state. When the sand is warmly soft and gold and the seagulls plaintiff call is bold as no other sound competes for space in air as soft as a mother’s embrace. Then you lay by a bed of scented pinks as rustling reeds their music links with a skylarks distant worshipping praise to sunlit, happy, palliate days. So the amphitheatre of the cliffs reduces all the world to this, sea, sand and skies sensuous ideal caressing body and soul to heal.