attitude

a cold beach

is still a beach.

the gulls still fly overhead

while the waves lap

against driftwood older

than i am.

scorching sand

isn't a prerequisite for joy

because joy isn't a place

but rather the attitude

we bring.

flashes back to childhood,

of sand-caked fingernails

and salt-shaken curls.

the beach,

aged adirondack chairs,

pebbled paths

whisked me towards waves.

the beach is just a place.

it's your attitude about it

that makes it special.