sandy morning

The silence laps at the waters edge make me feel one with something.
The gentle morning sun caresses the cheek of a running child.

The tainted air and heavy presence of the seaside church open my eyes to what I'm missing.
the simple beauty of stillness.

They say the early bird catches the worm,
but I say the early patron catches the rising sun.

I stuff my feet back into my patent leather heels
and smile at the tiny mounds of sand
that have formed between my toes.
At least I'll have a bit of the sea
to myself, hidden and mine
on the morning that shouldn't have been

so wonderful.

Author's Note

Easter morning at the beach. feedback?