Skip to content

Haiku wars, insects, damp sheets, bikes and sand

August 30, 2010

It’s not sunny, not really even super warm but it is the last day camping and the ocean is just lapping there, beckoning me daring me to swim. Its cold but its okay. Chica and Spawn are in it; sand smeared on their cheeks, pebbles in their pants with white smiles and tanned arms and legs flailing in the surf. The first wave laps at the bottom of my hair loosened from the clip and I smell salt and wood smoke and my eyes burn from the water. Hugging my tiny green floaty tube my feet dangle in the water and I push aside what might lurk on the bottom waiting to cause me a near heartattack. Its cold and I shiver but turning around to look out at the ocean endlessly rolling out before me.

If I am patient I could float all the way to china with the smell of wood smoke in my hair.

Advertisements
No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: