Jake Burdette, Freshman, Film and Marketing, Tampa, FL
Squawking seagulls soar over the water where wind blows harder.
The sound of the breeze in their wings as the waves rumble
Turning over and folding.
Crashed under the wave the sizzle of sand
Rolling from land and into the depth.
The unwelcomed buzz of someone’s speaker interrupts
the scene of the sun dancing off the waves.
Reflecting brilliantly.
Emerald canvas stretches off the edge.
The open sky keeps me down to Earth and a girl with brine flavored lips, dances in the salty rain.
A broken mirror that continues to roll.
Loud crowd
Imperfect marvel that keeps getting stained.
Girls tanning ignoring the sea, flipping over like a rotisserie.
Castles built and kings made until the rein is overthrown by flood.
Palms sway, shifting shade.
Scent of sunscreen, mothers let their
Children play and splash ignoring the crash of the sea, one kid’s about to pee, in the world’s biggest toilet.
The crowd eventually rolls out with the tide.
A ghost town with no ghosts.
I stand there.
Not able to see the sea
But knowing it can feel me.
Alone but never lonely.
Knowing there’s another world above and below.
I stand, my head in the stars, and my feet in the sand.
In silence the only voice is the waves, elegant and eloquent. In and out.
The careful current of sea breeze softly runs its fingers through my hair.
Gentle sea foam quietly blankets my ankles. Once-blue black draws me in.
I get pulled out.
Like a spaceman bathing in the moon’s light.
Who said the beach wasn’t fun at night?