There was no beach.
Nothing but rock down to the sea,
full of crags and caves ripe for exploring.
The waves crashed against the stone –
those covered in seaweed danced.
Baby crabs and shrimp, mollusks and barnacles,
hidden by patches of seaweed
frolicked in tide pools.
The sand colored rocks were rubbed smooth,
holes and grooves etched into them by the sea.
A fence loosely clung to the ground, leaning
into the wind in places, swaying like the dune grass.
The rocks dropped like cliffs, ending sharply
and sending my eyes down into the waves.
And I was always afraid the foghorn
would sound in broad daylight to warn
me away from the edge.
I pushed my luck anyway, until mom sounded
her alarm. We’d pile into the car, feet gritty,
and watch until we couldn’t see the spray
above the rocky horizon.