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Breezin’
© 05/18/2003 Daniel A. Stafford
Standing on the razor’s edge between sand and surf,
The sun shines down and slows me.
Sea gull glides and flares at my feet,
Hoping I’m carrying but I’m not.
I pick up stone after stone flat and skimming,
Froth on one foot fire on the other,
Five seconds from a cool splash and body surfing Michigan.
A parasol flutters and my hair flies back.
I close my eyes and hear life sigh,
Just breezin’.
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