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.