Light catches all that comes out to greet it;
glints glittering in pebbled hills
glints glittering in the ocean's wafered waves,
glints glittering in Sunday's satisfied eyes.
Sounds orchestrate for those who hear its silent cacophony;
a crash of footsteps, uneven yet definitive,
a crash of waves, constant and icy,
a call for company, cold and unconvincing.
The breeze joins in, droning docile;
moving the flickering corner of this page,
moving overhead, a plane's engine sings and a father's finger
moving, pointing duly to the sky for his squinting son to see.
A cloud of delicate birds mould into forms,
migrating south, grasping the warmth with their wings
and faintly heard behind is the constant hum of traffic,
Sunday drivers strolling coastal roads to coastal towns.
All is quiet and peaceful
if I let the surroundings relax my mind.
All is noisy and vibrant
if I let the surroundings focus my mind.
All is beautiful.
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