Salt-air Absolution

Under cerulean stained glass skies, I bathe my soul in sand and sun, anointed with salt water. Playing like a child in the breaks, I surrender to the flow of the tide as it chases and retreats: a frigid game of tag; then collapse into the cradled curve of dunes, bury sea-numbed toes in their warmth. Beyond the veil of closed eyelids, the seagull's cries become hymns as my burdens release: the worries of not being quick enough, not quite good enough, swept out on ebbing waves of grace. I'll wrestle my demons tomorrow. Right now I have sand in my toes and salt on my skin, and the ocean is roaring its ancient prayer in my head.