BARBARA EKNOIAN

Reflections at the Beach

The little girl in a sailor-boy-suit
jumps up to follow seagulls
then splashes in the water.
She digs in the wet sand and stares
as waves erase her carved-out designs.
She rises and returns to where
her mom and friends are chatting,
then chases her little brother.
Sea breeze tussles her hair.
She’s immersed in her day.
Boys are not yet in her thoughts;
they’re still galaxies away.

Soon the mothers, tired-looking
housewives, fold umbrellas, pack up
ice chests and gab among themselves
about what to make for supper.
Now they hope to miss the traffic.
They lead the way back to their cars
like mother ducks, their children
waddle behind them.

I sit like a queen in the beach chair,
while my daughters gather towels
and blankets afraid to let me help
or cross the sand on my own
with my bad knees and unsteady gait.
I’m in clam diggers since I gave up
wearing bathing suits years ago.
Once I was like that little girl
in a red, white and blue-sailor-boy suit,
romping in and out of foamy waves,
chasing my little brothers.
Gazing at the ocean, I inhale
the salty air, the beach’s beauty,
aware that my summer is waning.

Barbara Eknoian is a poet and novelist. Her work has appeared in Chiron Review, Silver Birch Press, and Your Daily Poem. Her recent book is a collection of short stories, Romance is Not Too Far From Here. She hails from New Jersey and has never lost her accent.