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