A Memory


I and my brother
would run from
the waves
At high tide.
And we loved being scared
by the big ones,
Dodging the creamy-lace foam,
laughing
and falling in the sand
to dig clams
That were so much faster than us,
But we never stopped.
Colors of the sun touched my
brother’s hair
And made it look gold
on that day at the beach
when I was five.

Photo by Mindy Raye Holmes