The beach Stories

The fog rolls in, obscuring the horizon The muted colors blend into one hue Melancholy looms within my being Is it the lack of sun? Or is it missing you? The waves lap at my feet along the shoreline I wish that you were here to hold my hand My heart is heavy, denser than the air As time moves like a million grains of sand My thoughts, they flit like hummingbirds that hover The distance in between and time apart Have let t...

Walking along an abandoned beach I feel the cool grains of white sand, They seem to melt beneath my feet. I watch the ice-cold, rippling water Slowly wash away the shore. Bits of shells roll back and forth As the tide rushes in and out again. From time to time, the seagulls cry out, As if to say, “This is our home!” The sun shines yellow with a touch of red, But still is not yet overhead. The birds make faint shadows on t...

After days of fog and overcast skies, the sun shines brightly today. The still-chilly air doesn’t bother the tourists, but I’m content to view the beach from my window. The water, so rough and wavy yesterday, is calm and serene to gaze at today. Occasionally a boat will pass by, adding little ripples to water that is otherwise as still as a lake. A little red-haired girl plays on the shore, searching for shells. As I watc...

,            about 2300 words James Foleyfarandthen@gmail.comwww.beyondthewind.comwww.mywarlove.com Machiavelli and Brexitby James Foley In Melbourne, Florida, the east wall of the Eau Gallie Public Library is sheer glass—facing the Intracoastal Waterway and the causeway soaring across it. And I remember how, on a September morning in 2017, this breathtaking view kept distracting me from Martin Andros’s voice as he read p...