Isle of Palms

  The sun still shines on the heated sand as waves wash away foot prints left by morning explorers.

               But—there’s a subtle difference. The heat once so intense is now tempered by a cooling breeze.

Everyone rushes to grasp that one last swim or sail. The wind playfully teases the para-sails, bringing joyful exhilaration to die-hard enthusiasts.

               Sandpipers run chasing the waves, hoping to catch one more mouthful of the ocean’s repast. Flotsam and jetsam edge the tide line, hiding treasures for chubby handed searchers, buckets in hand.

Seashells roll in the surf only to be stranded on the wet sand, waiting for the next push or pull of the waves.

               As evening nears, everyone pauses to watch the red sun melt into the horizon. Cool air blows across the waves as the last breather of summer dies and autumn is born.

Evelyn