Lytle Beach
Afternoon sun,
cutting sharp shadows on
clamshell, white
pebble, gray
beach glass, green
(such familiar things),
warms each March beachgoer,
including the heartless
seagulls dropping
helpless mussels
from the sky
to open them.
Down across the sand
an unlanguaged man –
vocal tic, facial twitch –
stands in the mudflats
going “hum hum hum”
(ferry wake rolls in
thrum thrum thrum),
picks up stones and tosses them in.
Such pleasure in the throwing motion!
Such pleasure in the splashing sound!
Such pleasure in knowing the stones went down!
The tide is out,
mudflat wilderness wide,
revealing a brand new beach,
never before seen.
Grace Romjue is a woman. She likes her husband, her two daughters, and herself, which she believes shouldn’t be so rare or hard to admit. Among her joys are volunteering in a children’s library, sailing with her family, and seeking the presence of God. She and her husband are professional musicians, and also grateful stewards of First Aid Arts, providing brave souls with embodied, expressive tools to rebuild resiliency after trauma. For the curious, more on that at firstaidarts.org. 
