I arrived at Johnson Beach, Perdido Key, Florida;
The strong winds pushed me to the shoreline,
A storm is brewing to the west,
Arriving this evening.
Seagulls greet everyone,
Looking for handouts,
Screeching out, “People, People”.
They know the tourist season is here,
Food everywhere; easy pickings.
Deep white sand,
Grabbed at my shoes.
I’m barely able to slug forward.
Lift foot, push, slide back.
Old shells litter the sand,
Bleached white shards.
I shiver and zip up my jacket,
Yet vacationers nearby wear bathing suits.
Their little children scream happily
Running into the churning waves.
Though a sign warns of impending danger:
Parents nervously watch their innocent kids
Who tempt fate and step further into the surf.
The Seagulls and shore birds
Share the windy beach.
Only the seagulls effortlessly
Glide a foot above me on
Invisible steams of air.
They show off and dip and land,
Then jump into the strong wind
Gliding without visible support again and again.
The horizon reaches to infinity,
Or so it seems.
At least to Cuba and beyond.
The sea ever-changing and never-changing.
I’m counting on you,
My salty friend,
To never leave me,
To never change,
To always be there.
Soon I’ll return in shorts and t-shirt
And dip my toes into your multi-colored depths.