Beaches

Aging, All Poems, Beaches, Cape May, Trips and Places

What Is It About Cape May?

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What is it about Cape May that shaves off years?

Makes your bones strong?

Your muscles flexible?

Erases time’s ravages?

Is it the briny air?

Monarchs starting on their journey south?

Frolicking plovers, gulls, terns?

Wild sunflowers, goldenrods, cattails?

Dunes full of pokeweed, sweet autumn clematis, tall grasses?

Rhythmic pounding of surf?

Sand between the toes?

Convergence of land and sea?

What is the magic formula that confers health?

Turns time around?

Is it the place?

The memories?

Some of each?

Taking you back to life’s core,

to the beating heart of earth.

Healing frame and spirit

in salty sea rebirth.

 

Lynn Benjamin

September 23, 2023

All Poems, Beaches, Cape May, Spring Lake, Trips and Places

I Cannot Count

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I cannot count the number of beaches I’ve walked.

Domestic ones in Los Angeles, Cape Cod, Honolulu.

Island ones on Tortola, Curaçao, Bahamas.

Tropical ones, stony ones, rocky ones.

Tiny ones, long ones, tree lined ones.

All over the world.

Beautiful, exotic, refreshing.

But, my feet feel most at home in New Jersey.

Something about the sand, the smell, the familiarity.

Let it be Spring Lake, Stone Harbor, Cape May.

Belmar, Atlantic City, Margate.

All like second homes.

Without knowing the neighbors.

Though, in some strange way, I do.

Different versions of myself at different ages.

Child, digging holes, jumping waves.

Lover, wrapped in arms and water.

Mother of small children, teens.

Grandmother, holding hands with toddlers.

Every beach, spectacular,

though it’s Jersey I long for.

Safeguarding my beach history

upon its briny shore.

 

Lynn Benjamin

September 8, 2023

 

 

 

 

 

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Beaches, Environment/Mother Earth, For Children, Spring Lake, Trips and Places

Spotted Lanternflies

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Spotted lanternflies must have flown off course.

When they landed at the New Jersey shore.

For instead of forest, there is sand.

No trees to feed on, lay eggs.

Surf pummels them.

Tides carry them away.

Bathers hit them with bottles.

Stamp on them.

Bury them.

Children shovel them into buckets.

Play with them.

Seagulls peck at them.

Spit them out as though their taste, bitter.

Lanternflies eat through forests.

Destroy plants for food, then spawn.

But, here on Spring Lake beach,

the environment is wrong.

If we could lure the rest of them

to vacation at the shore,

there’d be no more calls to wipe them out,

for they’d bother us no more.

 

Lynn Benjamin

September 7, 2023

 

All Poems, Beaches, Change, Memories, Spring Lake

Day After Labor Day

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Labor Day marks the unofficial end of summer.

But, the news must not have reached the Jersey shore.

For the day after, it was scorching hot.

Cars were lined up to park all along the beach.

As though the holiday were still in progress.

Despite absence of lifeguards, concession stands, beach tags.

For us, the first time this season in New Jersey.

Mostly because of Bob’s eye surgery in late Spring.

And a busy travel schedule.

The day was glorious.

Pounding surf.

Salty breezes.

Frolicking seagulls, plovers.

Sounds, smells, visuals.

Nudging memories.

Maybe jolting them.

Children, grandchildren jumping waves.

Older parents strolling the boardwalk.

Family members disembarking from the train.

Dashing across foot bridges in the park.

Buying chocolates and wine in town.

Those times seemed more pliant,

the road more circumscribed.

The world a gentler place,

not jumbled, in overdrive.

 

Lynn Benjamin

September 6, 2023

 

Adult Children, All Poems, Beaches, Disappointment, Family, Grandchildren, Sag Harbor, Trips and Places

16 Dogwood

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The idea of reunion.

Conceived months ago.

A rental at 16 Dogwood.

In Sag Harbor.

A place to share first with Roseanne and Zev.

Zev, dropping out early.

Called to Portugal.

Then Roseanne’s family.

Stricken with Covid.

Days before the event.

So, the house, three bedrooms, two sofa beds, fell to us.

To Bob and me alone.

A nest too big, too comfortable for two.

Around activities on Madison.

Bustling with two families, six children.

Where all toys resided.

Trips to park and beach emanated.

Sad, our reunion incomplete.

But consoled by stones, shells.

Seaweed, grasses, crabs.

Seagulls, sand, salt.

Calm bay waters.

Quiet morning, evening meanders.

Thinking of those not here.

Though unable to make it to the house,

their voices clear I hear.

 

Lynn Benjamin

August 24, 2023

All Poems, Beaches, People Traits, Sag Harbor, Trips and Places

Stony Beach

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It’s very quiet on the stony beach.

Near our rental on Dogwood.

Except for the crunching of shells, rocks beneath my feet.

Wind blowing through tall grasses, Queen Anne’s lace.

Around a marsh.

Shrieking of a lone seagull.

I always thought beaches were expanses of sand.

Till I traveled the world.

Saw muddy ones.

Rocky ones.

Broad ones.

Tiny slips.

All abutting water.

Ocean, inlet, bay, lake, river.

Sometimes places surprise you.

They’re not what you expect.

Sometimes people you think you know

present covert aspect.

What you think you know may differ

from what you really see.

Life is full of illusions,

nuance, complexity.

 

Lynn Benjamin

August 21, 2023

 

 

All Poems, Beaches, For Children, Sag Harbor, Trips and Places

Circle Beach

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It surprises me I like a stony beach called Circle.

Close to the rental in Sag Harbor.

Between high grasses and bay.

Full of stones, shells, scrub.

I suppose it’s the stillness.

Rejected by bathers who want stretches of soft sand.

Companions, rows of umbrellas.

Here, the lone walker.

Often accompanied by several dogs.

Cooling off in the water.

One morning, a guitarist on a blanket.

Singing his heart out.

But, mostly calm.

Blueness and stones crunching under foot.

The scent of salt

to open up the nose.

The right amount of quiet

to let my hand compose.

 

Lynn Benjamin

August 24, 2023

 

All Poems, Beaches, For Children, Sag Harbor, Trips and Places

Wiborg Beach

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It’s a job to pack for the beach.

Six children, six adults.

Towels, toys, chairs.

Boxes of pizza for dinner.

A metal tub to make a bonfire.

To roast marshmallows.

By 5 pm, day time sunbathers go home.

Making room for an evening crowd.

Caravans of jeeps with tables for banquets.

Balls, bats, frisbees.

Blankets, jackets to protect against the wind.

As the sun descends, a city rises.

Even seagulls change guard.

A night time crowd by the sea.

Their music, pounding surf.

Their carpet, sand.

Like the tides, they’ll be out by morning.

Beach, pristine, once more.

Ready for day trippers

to nestle by the shore.

 

Lynn Benjamin

August 23, 2023

 

     

All Poems, Beaches, East Hampton, Trips and Places

Montauk

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Montauk paused the rhythm of the day.

Between two school drop offs.

And two school pick-ups.

A contrast to forested, budding East Hampton.

For Montauk snuggles up to the water.

Sandy shores.

Marina.

Lighthouse Park.

All at the edge of Long Island.

Where, if you peer across the bay, you can see the North Fork.

Parallel to the South Fork, the point from which you’re squinting.

Watch seagulls taking naps with pigeons.

People frequenting every kind of eatery imaginable.

So, find your way to Montauk.

From the Hamptons, a short hop.

Go in May, avoid a mob.

A beach for canopy swap.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 18, 2023

 

 

All Poems, Beaches, Farewell, Natural Beauty, O'ahu/Honolulu, Pleasure, Trips and Places

Last Walk on Kailua Beach

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Beach walks are my thing.

Just ask anyone who knows me.

Sipping lemonade under an umbrella is not for me.

Building sand castles never thrilled me.

Though I liked watching others’ progress.

On returns from walks.

I never owned a fishing rod.

Staying in one place waiting is not an option.

Nor does it appeal.

Exercising my legs.

My eyes.

My ears.

My mind.

While walking has been my pleasure.

So, the longer the beach, the better.

The softer the sand, the better.

The warmer the water, the better.

Kailua Beach fits all categories.

It runs for miles.

Ready to be traversed any time of day or night.

Ringed by mountains, palms.

Bubbling with history.

For early Hawaiians likely rowed upon its shores.

Now home to surfers.

Exercisers.

Beach strollers.

Dog walkers.

Children.

People of all ages.

If I had to name the place

I’d miss most in O’ahu.

It’d be Kailua Beach.

Our twice daily rendezvous.

 

Lynn Benjamin

March 18, 2023