One Last Summer

I leap along the sand in my salty, damp swimming costume. The beach is almost deserted and stretches longer than time. 

I am eleven years old. My hair is a golden halo caught in the wind, my body free in its pagan revelry. A daughter of Neptune. 

I am faintly aware that this feeling will not last much longer. I am almost aware of my body. Almost self-conscious. But not quite yet. One last summer. The waves crash, shimmering turquoise with white foam.

I register pain and stop running to examine my foot. It is cut and bloody, with sharp, translucent, broken glass poking in. The shard that burst my freedom. My soaring spirit descends to that cloudy afternoon, damp sand, bitter salty tears. Sister of Icarus. 

I am a creature of the earth, not a sprite who blows in on a fair wind. 

Pussy willows dance

In the salty air, knowing

I will grow up soon.