We finally made it to the beach, said Bob.
After getting waylaid by an Irish festival.
We didn’t know was happening in Spring Lake.
Then walking the town seeking sun hats, cards, a baby gift.
Even a container of almonds.
Having forgotten to bring some from home.
But we did, finally, make it to the sand.
After the afternoon tide rolled in.
Crowds of revelers already planted with their umbrellas.
This Father’s Day weekend.
Bathers, surfers, kayakers, paddle ballers.
Piles of empty mussel shells upon the shore.
Crunching under bare feet.
As we meandered along.
Listening to the steady rhythm of the surf.
Smelling briny breezes.
Taking in the annual scene.
For the first time this season.
Always glad for ocean zephyrs
to blow away the stress.
Ancient balm for body, soul,
rejuvenating process.
Lynn Benjamin
June 15, 2024
