Senses

Digging in my feet

into the soft, sweet, cool sand.

It’s the Fourth of July

on a semicrowded beach.

The senses that had been dulled

by the wretched workaday world

are alight and at peace.

Dusk pulls her blanket over the tiny town.

I can see for miles.

The lightshow begins.

Fireworks twinkle and pop

off to my left.

They dazzle the eye

and send jaws dropping

upon even the oldest of children.

Palm trees stand and sway

with the gentle Gulf breeze,

framing the fireworks.

To my right, a storm cloud

dawdles northward, away from us.

Lightning fights a losing yet fiery battle

for our attention.

Thunder thumps and rumbles dully.

In front of me,

the Gulf of Mexico, almost unnoticed,

laps calmly upon the sand.

I dip my ankles in the warm water.

Something about it relaxes me and loosens

my muscles.

The half-moon shines

in all her ethereal glory,

bathing us in the mysterious glow.

Soon she will shine her brightest

and bring out the best in us.

Nature almost always wins over man,

and usually by a wide margin.

Except when man wants to celebrate,

and Zeus surrenders, begrudgingly though he may.

And it’s a night like this, when

all of my senses are engaged,

that I feel the most alive.