The day is hot, so hot, the air thick and oppresive with moisture. Sweat coats us all and we move slowly. Returning from school my wild boy slips outside to return red-faced with a living fish he caught in a nearby lake. We put the fish in the bath and wait for Beloved to return to deal with the hook. The heat is overwhelming. We are sluggish, headache-y. Minutes pass slowly.
Beloved returns, late, and we head to the sea. The fish is returned to it's home on the way.
And we step onto the beach and the full super-blue-blood moon (to be) hangs over the sea, and the breeze is cool and playful.
The breeze is cool. It's like a heaven-sent gift. A promise of the benediction of rain to come.
The tide is low, and we trail out over sand banks. Energy and joy returns. The older kids fish, the younger ones play in the water. The water is warm, like tepid bath water. But o - that breeze.
Soon, the younger kids are soaked through, and we strip them and they wallow naked in the brine and mud.
My little water babies, my sprites, my wild ones.
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