It's Still Life

Between Here and There

The beach sings white.
Children heard. Cries
deferred to birds above,
or the joyous crack of
rock candy between teeth.

On the rise, a breeze.
Such sweet relief.
We are in
a momentary peacetime.
Between bad news.

Half way to a tide’s ebb.
Half way to melting.
In the grasp of sun.
In the startled air.
We stare beyond
what we see.

© Misky 2016, for Poetic Bloomings, Day 25