beach self

it is a lucky thing
to experience beach self.

you know the self...
that one that throws on
yesterday's tee shirt
because it's still pretty clean
the one that walks along cool sand
in bare feet
at 6 a.m. watching the sky
brighten
as the sun rises higher.

whoever you may briefly pass
along the walk
is experiencing beach self too
so all is needed is a quick hello
or nod or maybe no greeting at all.

it doesn't matter
who is a wall street executive or
a new widow
or a worker on a coveted vacation.
beach self is precious and levels all.

beach self swims in the cool ocean
lets her hair air dry all crazy
and takes Instagram photos of waves
and birds
and everything she tries to keep.

everyone has a beach self --
if only they can get to an ocean
loving the sounds of the sea roaring
ocean salty air blowing gently
waves pulsing here here here

like breath inside us
coming in and out
whether we are tired or rested
hungry or full
poor or comfortable
in pain or in joy or in peace.
mind occupied or empty.

wave after wave
one foot in front of the other
walking the sand
avoiding sharp things
and sea weed.

gulls fish and flutter and fly
sandpipers poke and scramble
sea birds sometimes cry out.

we vaguely listen.

© nan, 2015



[Note: I started this poem on my phone this past week. It is a work in progress.]