Child, Sun

Far from where her mother sits, a child
Dances with the shoreline, and the waves
In foaming crests enchant her with their splash.
She squeals, licking her lips to taste the salt.
While mother reclines, sipping the wine that remains from the picnic,
Shielding her eyes, thoughtful on a blanket under the swollen afternoon sun.

Her shoulders are tender and pink from this stolen day in the sun.
She needed urgently to come. To share this with her child.
Packing the car, preparing meticulously for the picnic,
Thoughts of her own mother, memories warm and soft, came in waves.
She folded sandwiches, anticipating them flavored with the salt.
The warm beach blanket, and life’s forgotten sounds, screeches of birds and the splash

Of loyal surf. She watches her child kick the teasing ocean, returning splash for splash,
And aches for the old summers, days spent in the maternal embrace of the sun.
Behind closed eyes she tastes the expansive freedom, the itchy caress of salt
The luxury of sand crunching in her teeth, treasures of a child.
Free to simply be, blissfully unaware until mother calls, waves
Her over. Remembering mother’s toes sifting sand, she is hungry for this picnic.

She gave them little thought, that ubiquitous line up of picnic after picnic after picnic.
But now she misses their predictability, and sighing deeply she lets the tears splash
As she sways, feeling the rhythm of the hypnotic waves.
The red tank, her freckled skin, her mother growing stronger under the watchful sun.
Breathing in the warmth left in the day her eyes find her own dancing child.
Sighing, smiling, subconsciously tasting leftover tears, she feels nourished by their salt.

Shaking the plaid wool blanket, she scatters shells, sand, and salt.
She feels strong, for reclaiming this day, their first summer picnic.
Stretching, reaching to the darkening sky, she moves slowly toward her content child,
Grabbing a sandy hand, they stand, feeling the water tickle and splash.
They dig heels into wet sucking sand. They feel the affection of the sun
Draping protectively over their shoulders, and her heart moves with the waves.

She is grateful. The beach’s distracting din, the repetitious lulling of its waves,
All still here for her. The sea air accepts unconditionally, with open arms of salt.
She hears her mother in the calls of the waves. Warm in her love of the sun.
She feels at ease, a welcomed and beloved guest at this beach picnic.
The soft sand wiggles up through the space between her toes, and a sudden splash
Of evening red and pink stains the summer sky, bleeding its color down onto her child.

The continuity of the splash. A child waltzing with the waves.
Youth in the musical spray. Sustenance in the sea salt.
Stability, of the beach picnic. Support, of the forgiving sun.