Grub On The Beach

Full blossom on the cherry tree by the sports hall door.
I notice it today.
The sun is bold. I open the door and sit in shade.
Students walking in: white suits bouncing blinding night.

While I am sitting, I am thinking what sort of times are these?

I am thinking of a dragonfly grub, sensing change, sliding feet, ascending a stem, feeling like bird food.

After class the sky is light: pale blue, soft golden orange.

I notice it today.
The sun sinks slow over the beach while I walk and think and hear the waves telling me wise calm words. Rock pools so warm, like a Mediterranean beach. Where my trousers have caught the surf, a cold damp settles.

Coffee in a flask, the car heater works.


  1. Really, "what sort of times are these?"

    I love the writing. Grub for the soul. Take care.

  2. Beautiful imagery. (You done good!) I hope you have a super weekend.

  3. Wonderfully written. Your post put me in a pensive mood now.


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