The Lasting Taste of Summer

In beach time, summer confirms its presence with its piercing sheen. The feverish orb stares at the bay without the woollen eyelids that normally calm its conjunctivitis. And the cobalt skin sewn into the horizon stretches upward like a wedding marquee.

In beach time, waves rub the sandy locales with alluring murmurs. Travellers from the suburbs seek to end their withdrawal symptoms, filling the streets with their pale limbs. They come dressed for the occasion in costumes shaped for coolness.

In beach time, smart lotions and shields of shadow deflect the solar mites; carcinogenic bites should be treated immediately. Grains invade crevices that are commonly concealed areas; clots form where moisture has gathered. Brief eruptions disturb the bay’s surface as heat sufferers seize the chance for remedy. In the sand, young engineers brashly show their skills to anyone who cares to look.

During beach time, aqueous play threads through the afternoon like an artery. The boyfriend feigns drowning while sunshine and salt drench the girlfriend’s laughter. Children squeak as froth follows them across the jewelled waters. While one sister searches for marine life, the elder sister initiates her scheme to sabotage the other. A grandfather circles the offshore wreck like a historian.

Time involving beaches is regularly used to consider exhibitions of desirable anatomy. As the women strut, as the men relax, as the boys pout, as the girls mock at danger, thirsty observers consider curves, texture, colours, and attitude. A seagull conflict exists in the vicinity of fresh waste deposited after people had engaged their appetites. Dogs merrily express themselves. The cricket exudes excitement.

The event to frame a beach: the daily bath empties its blend of reds and violets over skins, an amorous sight that beachgoers marvel at.

Time of the beach is a spell of adventurous relief.