The sea foam floats in marbled patterns
atop the resting waters between waves.
We gaze in wonder at nature’s splendor
as it lulls us to our own inner peace.
My child has a rotund shape that lends itself to silliness
as she runs to the latrine.
The quake of my laugh shakes off the stresses
of several weeks gone by.
Stooping with hunched shoulders like an older lady,
my child-like adult searches the tide’s debris.
Her discoveries are treasures in her eyes only
the soft-worn broken shapes of shell and rock.
Surrounded by the warm humid scent of the sea,
as we rest on our outstretched blanket.
We observe her wonderment from this vantage
half slumbering, half enraptured by her innocence.