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Sunday at the Beach

Lucy Sage

Today the masses are home
Staying warm and cozy.
An old suntanned man surfs the sand
On his one-wheeler.

The water is flat
Glassy like the lakes of my childhood.
The sun’s reflection fills the ocean.

Sanderlings meet,
Some on one leg—
They nap, balance,
Practice yoga,
Then scatter,
Hopping along.

A few pelicans soar
Along small waves.
They rise
But never touch
The water.

Shells adorn the sand
A few catch my eyes.
I return them
As Anne Morrow Lindberg
In Gifts from the Sea advises,
One can collect only a few [shells],
And they are more beautiful
If they are few.

Children capture shells in mesh bags.
I return to my returns
And give them to the amateurs.

A pelican heads into the sunset
Illuminating its pink translucent beak.

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