Beachcomber: free to roam

Soft sand oozes through tightly curled toes
warm waves wash deliciously over settling feet;
surveying my horizons I am a beachcomber:

orange, magenta, ivory spheres
grown knobbed and spiked over the years;
momentary dream of tired tot
yelling their dream at parent hot,
who chucks what’s due into honesty pot;

translucent, tempting to touch
no longer deadly – well, not much;
once predator in its own great sphere
now a mere target, of jelly clear
for jabbing toe and driftwood spear;

bright coloured whirligigs
swinging round twirligigs
stand in buckets in vast array
buckets and spades for timeless play
plastic mementoes of glorious day;

these things I now see on the beach –
mundane acts that revive the soul
fill the spaces and make mind whole –
re-set to ‘normal’, now in reach.

I hope my words convey my optimism about stepping out into an old world, with new eyes. We have the chance to reappraise our world, our lives, our opportunities. I plan to grab mine with both hands.

If you have enjoyed my words and photo images please like, share, and comments. Perhaps you have new thoughts, desires, dreams.
Thank you for reading.

Stay well. Stay safe. Stay alert to possibilities.