The orange disc of the sun

is slowly engulfed by the black horizon.

 

Our faces glow in the flames.

A soft breeze cools salty sunburned skin.

The fire cracks.

A dog barks.

The tide rolls in and in and in.

 

Our children are sihouettes,

yelling

racing

chasing waves

or standing still

heads down, side by side,

savouring the sensation

of sand pulled through toes by the tide.

 

We drink tea from the thermos

and watch wordless,

our breath slow.

Silenced anxieties drift away

with the orange sparks

that hover then rise,

floating upwards,

into restful August skies.