Josh
As we approach the hill
we can smell the salt water already,
imagine the sand, coloured like light,
twinkling in the sun.
We can just hear the surf,
more of a susurrating sound
than the crashing we expect to hear.
Then we can see the white
waves assail the afternoon beach.
Well, not exactly assail, I must say,
more like flop tiredly onto the sand
then crawl back down the beach
before trying again.
It’s low tide, you see.
Josh barks and races over the hill.
When we top the hill he’s up to
his belly in the water,
waiting for me to throw his ball
so we can play fetch, and swim.
Does he ever run out of breath
for the swimming and chasing?
Does he flop down on the sand,
his ribs moving rapidly,
in time with his breath?
Oh, yes, yes he does, but he never
runs out of enthusiasm.
