Shells
That beach
that lovely beach
the sand beneath my feet
where we would look for shells in crags and tidepools
We would swim out into the surf
until we could not touch the sand
drinking in the smell of salt
and savoring the warm wind blowing hard towards home;
There we would walk,
and listen to the waves
when I was young
How I loved that place.
Now when I smell salt
drifting on the air
or the brush of a warm breeze
on my bare skin
my mouth does twitch
and a half a smile comes to me as I recall the coarse sand
and the water around my body.
I remember the smell of the air
and the sound of the waves
and in that moment
no matter where I am
I stop to look for shells.
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