Big Wet Thing

It’s a lot of work really
Sandwiches made and not eaten,
you bring home a beach worth of sand
and disperse it in the bed sheets
an ecosystem forms in the base of the shower
and you’re washing shell grit down the drain
long after the beach weather
has clouded over.

The older kids run in, swim too far out,
while the little one hangs back,
fearful of the waves.
So your husband edges slowly into the water,
‘watch the kids, hun’
and you hang back on the beach
to take care of the littly.
All you really want to do is swim
out to the horizon,
out past the edge of the world.

You get out the camera.
You look down the lens and see
light chooses you 

or it doesn’t choose you.

Today's poem responds to a photo prompt from Nadine Cranenburgh. Photo is by Leon Brooks