Afternoon on a November day.
A solitary walk.
The chatter of seagulls
bemoaning their meager natural diet
after the summer’s largess
of stolen sandwiches and French fries.
The rhythmic ebb and flow
of the incoming tide.
The shower of seaweed left in place.
Grooming the stuff of summer and tourists.
Footprints in the sand made by sneaker-clad feet.
The barefoot toes-in-the-sand days of summer
have passed into memory.
Replaced by the beauty and simplicity
of a quiet beach.