Memory Of Avon Poem by Michael Dikeman

Gazing on spastic sea, banding lightening moves across distant horizon. Frothy ocean creeps across sandy floor, closer to sandalled feet, cooling waters lapping on us.

Here we stand, waiting upon transcendent twilight. Cool breeze from the sea ruffling. The children play as we wait, kicking surf to spray, splashing all of us.

Darkness finally fells the light, here upon is what we await. Ghost crabs edge from being deeply burrowed. Moving quickly once emerged, they skitter across their sandy bed, moving towards wetted fringe.

The children hoot and holler, using brightened torch, illuminating the joy of their search. They jump and squeal as crabs scamper. Pursuing them to watery edge, watching as they disappear in the oceans breath.

Running back to find the biggest one, dozens more soon surround us, we all move about avoiding creeper crawls.

Heading further up the beach we watch, as ghost crabs fade into the mist and spray, an astounding memory was made.