On the beach

We're out on the shore away from the campground

Texas beaches are considered roads

you can drive all 60 miles of beach down the island.

At 10mph, we drove 10.5 miles and stopped.

Far enough, I hoped, to be out of sight of others

staying the night

so I could swim naked in the sea.

 

And camping on the beach is free. 

No bath but the ocean

no drinking water but what you bring 

and all the dunes for a litter box

and still the constant wind.

Today the sun, at last, blistering.

We need an awning.

Sand gets in everywhere. 

Sanderlings skitter along the shore 

spending as much time chasing each other away as pursuing 

the delicacies each wave reveals.

Crabs scuttle about, redigging their sand dens

every time the turtle patrol dune buggy

or another fisher truck bounces over them.

No sea turtles yet, though we keep hoping.

This day for the first time begins to feel like I imagined this trip would be

not driving

just being

thinking

sorting

ruminating

playing

exploring

drinking in the wonders 

of the world

(even through my old spare glasses

that make me feel cross-eyed)

I haven't painted yet

too windy here

- my shade umbrella took off down the beach

acting as a sail skidding along the water

we had to run at top speed to chase it down

before Poseidon made off with that, too -

but I take pictures 

all the time

and try to remember the names of all the new birds we learned

Of all the birds I have seen here

I could want to be a brown pelican

unlike the whites

they get to dive

for food, and fly in formation

in snaking rollercoaster patrols,

or hang out on their own

versatile

adventurous

graceful