A poem in celebration of August
Cicadas whirring as day's heat fades to night
Flip-flop steps bounce off a beachside boardwalk
Ibizenco espresso machines have gone silent
Instead, salt wind and the beat of the waves
Frolicsome, family, friends saunter by sunchairs
Three-fifty a day or seven for two
But our bed is the sand, the curls left by Neptune
Our sport to cavort without care in the sea
Our glee ringing out with a splash and a dive
Our bodies revived in the aquamarine pool
Bike knees churn uphill, the wind not working
The sweat on our brow pouring down in the sun
Some tapas - an ¡Hola! - a cordial reply
Welcoming strangers who smile with their eyes
Romano, Italo, Tedesco, and gringos
On these shores we're all just amigos.
