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Charlotte walked on a mood-weird beach,
taking it all in: sea-suds on her toes,
salt-air in her nose,
sounds of surf and engines–echoes,
yes, and splash.
Charlotte held her sandals in one hand,
touched her hair with the other,
felt thin red fabric on her skin; and the breeze.
Charlotte wasn’t happy,
nor was she not-happy.
She was.
She felt herself to be.
She sensed she was and had a self–and
was walking by the sea.
And the breeze.
Charlotte felt almost at ease.
