Water’s Edge (a Portrait)
This early on a Sunday morning
there aren’t many people
on the beach.
A couple old guys with metal detectors
looking for millions in
lost tourist change.
Please shoot me
if I ever
so much as mention getting
a metal detector.
Seagulls bunch together,
facing the cool, strong breeze.
A couple of them bicker,
but really the only sound is the surf.
It’s late October,
and you can still kick along
barefoot
through the small, breaking waves.
In just a few weeks
the water will be too cold.
A woman passes me,
the wind pulls at her long hair.
She’s skirting the water’s edge,
like me.
Barefoot,
holding her sandals
in one hand.
Pretty. She smiles at me
and I return the smile,
as we pass each other.
Some thirty yards later I stop
and look back.
She’s skirting the water’s edge,
and I wonder what she’s thinking.
.