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Summer at my beach home is a time of sitting still, in watching things slowly change.

Seeing the nectarines on our crooked old tree grow plump and heavy with juice,
blushing crimson and gold under the sun’s glare.

Lying on my towel with prickly blades of beach grass poking through the cotton,
holding a book that is not being read.

Idly watching a container ship chug sluggishly across the horizon, oblivious to the sparkling bathers clustered close to the shore.

Sitting quietly as twilight lowers itself over the remnants of a scorching day, listening to the soothing hum and crackle of night insects.

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MWilson

Joined January 2008

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  • Natella2020
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