Lying half asleep

in a meditative haze,

on a gaudy old beach towel,

one of those hot August days.

Head covered with a worn straw hat,

all senses at rest excepting that

of the heat of the sun

and a soft summer breeze,

blowing across my skin

and up through the trees.

A calliope of sound serenades my ears,

As babies cry, children scream and laugh

along with the popping tops of beers.

Seagulls soar as jet planes roar

over the hum of wheels on pavement,

bongos beat and lovers meet, 

while a crowd shouts in amazement               

at the prowess of a surfer

riding a huge wave,

or the performance of an athlete

for an extraordinary save.

 A flock of parrots fly by squawking,   

as some girls stroll on joking and talking.

A siren alerts of some pending disaster,

and a warning blares

from a lifeguard’s broadcaster.

In the distance I hear

the faint call of a seal,

a boom box plays, car door slams,

and tires squeal. 

As waves lap the shore,

men argue, women chatter,

while dogs bark incessantly

over some small canine matter.

The hot sun sears as 4 o’clock nears,

my uncovered ear

hears a child in tears

over some unknown fears,

as a cycle whips through its gears.

There’s still time for a couple more beers.

After a while, the noise all blends to an Om,

the beach is deserted, and I’m all alone. 

I’m hungry and sweaty and tired to the bone.

The adventure’s now over;

It’s time to go home.