Blue twilight skies
hold iridescent clouds
that hide the sinking sun.
Rolling white caps
whisper and whoosh
keeping sandpipers on the run.
The waves embrace
the cold, wet sand,
sidling closer until within reach.
A gull cries overhead
as the waves retreat
from the enticing, beckoning beach.
"Come, come, come to the beach.
Write your worries in the sand;
the water will wash them all away.
Collect some shells;
watch the hermit crabs dance."
The beach is beckoning, calling,
"Come, come, come to the sea today."