Chunky rubber soles
Slide into a sudden stretch of sand.
Sand does not belong, alongside a walkway of cement,
But it’s incongruity contributes to it’s intrigue.
Toes wiggle to and fro, digging deeper into grains
That have firmed from the cooling air.

Lined up like crayons in a box, canoes lie.
Tips reach towards silent and placid water
Without touching.
Wide in the center and slim at the points,
The boats are sleeping fish.
Darkness makes itself known and brushes the tops;
Their colors are dimmed.

Closest lies the boat of rust,
Alongside a boat the shade of charcoal-dusted blueberries.
Third is the boat of evergreen
Whose nicked ridge reveals a smudge of white towards the head.

Her eyes lift from the soundly sleeping fish to the cobalt expanse ahead,
The water ripples gently.
It seems that the effect is caused by a mother’s loving hands,
Settling the sheet over a son’s resting body.
Confetti splotches rest atop the sheet like cotton candy and
Nestled in the shining sheet’s ripples, they glow in her eyes.

Reflections of the clusters are found
Above the blackened horizon.
The imprints are kisses from clouds above,
Indigo and rose.
To the right, she sees a scarf being knitted in the sky,
Of yarn
Indigo and rose,
Intertwined.

Above and slightly to the left
Is a wisp nearly the color of the pale blue sky,
But tinted with indigo,
Leading to three horizontal slices of cloud
Stacked and crafted.
The horizon line separating light blue and cobalt
Is a silhouette of forest.
Individual trees cannot be distinguished,
All blur together to create a belt
Blacker than the ashes of a log burned in winter.
The trees themselves are united
With their own inky reflections,
It is a blur, but it is defined.

The whiskers of the reflection point down,
Bleeding into the water.
The treetops are cut and pasted into the sky.
From the far left, a blushing ribbon
Rests atop the silhouetted belt.

Her boots move her.
First the rubber heel of her right foot,
Followed by the sole and the toes.
Sand grinds like gravel and
Makes way beneath her feet.
Her weight shifts to the left.
Right heel digs, preceding the base and toes.

She makes her way to the dividing line,
And crouches down to be at the level
Of the glistening swells.
Supporting herself with the fingertips of her left hand,
Spread like bones of a bat’s wing,
She allows the pointer and middle fingers of her right hand
To make contact with the surface of the sheet.

Shocked with icy coolness,
They linger for just a moment.
She allows them to dip deeper into the water
Before withdrawing.
Supported by her tensing calves,
She pulls herself to a standing position.
The crisp chill of the water lingers on her fingers.
She enjoys the recent addition of bite
To the formerly mild air.
The shift in season is beginning to be felt.
A breeze pushes past.
It caresses the bare skin of her arms.
All tension held in the joints of her shoulders and in the crannies of her heart melts
In the breeze’s sways.