The smell hits me first,
having walked across the wooded island
and gotten used to the damp smell of the earth.
I feel the sharp salty air filter into my lungs,
coaxing me to take deeper and deeper breaths
as I shed my backpack and run to the water.
The tide is low today, extremely low.
I run down the ombre of sand,
becoming more and more steady
as the sand grows darker and cooler.
The crushed shells dig into my feet.
The water soothes as I go splashing in, ankle deep,
taking the sting from the shells and hot sand away,
washing the dirt and campfire smoke with the retreating tide.
I turn to watch my friends emerge from the woods,
eyes blurry from the salty spray and swelling of emotions.
I smile wide with my hands thrown in the air.
The sound of the sea and the breeze
are like sweet murmurings in my ear,
telling me secrets about the world.
***
Our destination is the boneyard,
a scar of land where live oaks, anchored
in the sands, and the ocean come to kiss.
The dead branches are akin to my arms thrown out wide;
the roots a tangled mass.
My heart feels like the water running over our feet,
pooling around our toes in the soft sand;
I can’t seem to expand my chest wide enough
to fit the thumping love inside.
So It Goes 