So grand the views

of morning light when
life begins to wake
from night… gazing
from the balcony the
shoreline seems to be
where I feel free.

A splattering of
neon lights
attached to tar
paper roofs
will break quietly
through a magic
of a morning mist…

As the sun begins
to rise, two yellow
tractors drive – onto
the beach, creating
figure eights – while
sweeping across damp
and mucky sand…

Little people in my
view no bigger than
my thumbnail, empty
bright red garbage
cans, into a toy Tonka
I feel so large, so
grand overlooking
some magic land…

A child walks
below a balcony,
sea gulls begin to
squawk and flock into
a tribe, as the child
touches sand they
dive to pluck away
what is carried in a
child’s hand…

Last night rain left
giant puddles on the
street below. Tiny
cars begin to move
released silence
of dawn…

A wind erupts to beat
towels hard against
our balcony drenched
by evening rain…

A faint white moon still
shines in the southern
sky, much brighter
to my east – light
brightens the beach.

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Angie's Diary