The scent of fire,
Beach fire, burning, hissing,
wet and hot all at the same time.
Water boils from the logs,
they heat up and burn all at once.
The scent of the ocean,
the sound of the dogs dragging rocks around the beach.
Airplane fuel, halting laugh,
the sting of the sand as the helicopter lands on the beach.
Watching the fire get doused by the incoming tide,
safe in a blanket on grandma’s deck.
Squirrels bombing us with green pinecones
as we played in the woods, on the way to John’s Beach, so far away.
Concrete tube on the beach, half hidden in the sand, coated on the inside with mussels, play ’til the tide comes back in.
Singing by the beach fire,
laughing and playing as the sun goes down, it’s 1 a.m.
in July the sun doesn’t go down for long…