They run to the shoreline holding hands-
a man, a woman, and their two children.
Each one can’t wait to get their feet wet.
It’s the first day on the beach in Carolina.
They’ll stay out past dark with flashlights
as the ghost crabs scurry across the sand.
They’ll swim past midnight in illuminated
pools and drink too many ice cold Coronas.
They’ll get up early for coffee on the beach.
They’ll stare at the sunrise and hunt for shells.
They’ll get down on their knees to build fancy
sand castles with plastic buckets and shovels.
They’ll stare at the ocean, judge the waves,
strap colorful boogie boards to their wrists.
They’ll attempt to have a game of paddle ball.
They’ll throw cheese doodles to the seagulls.
By the third or fourth day, things will change,
less people get up early and less stay out late.
They’ll dress in white shirts and khaki shorts to
take family photos for their Christmas cards.
They’ll feel rich, blessed, and lucky to be here.
Some will start to think of the long ride home.
Some will say stupid things to each other, like-
“I wonder what the poor folks are doing today?”