Summer Solstice.

This is the early morning
of the longest day.
The tide has time to spare.
A flat calm.
Stroked by the fresh daylight,
lulled by the soft, still air,
the sea lies back to rest,
breathing gently,
slipping away,
reassuring the beach
with the rhythmic sighs
of its turning finger ends.
Swoosh and back.
Swoosh and back.

Time to stand still
at the turning of the year.
Time to make believe
that it will always be like this.
Safe in the moment.

There will be drama enough to come.



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