I breath​e​ in. 

Sitting on a log, drifted up long ago​,​ 

worn down by time and visitors.  

The fire in a pebble pit crackles​,​ 

daring the tide to come closer. 

It laps over the polished stones, 

perfectly skippable, 

comfortably walkable. 

Thick fog hanging silently above 

​​the ​turquoise waters of the sound. 

A blanket wrapping its comfort around 

the plastic red-and-blue kayaks  

bobbing gently with the waves. 

Ferry embracing the welcoming beam 

of the old, weathered lighthouse. 

White shiplap showing the sun-bleached 

wood beneath. Red-tiled roof where meetings 

of chatty gulls take place, calling out to boats.  

The soft breeze blows the scent of evergreen 

and the sea. The sun sets, leaving 

the constellations to tell campfire stories​,​ 

while the embers begin to fade. 

I breath​e​ out.