A beach walk

The sand squeaks with each step.  Closer.
Into the ocean I run, my dress wet, my legs sandy, my mouth open to salt and wind and smiling.
The sun sets, the surfers stare into waves diminishing in the dusk.
We take pictures because we want to remember this moment, this peace.
We retreat back through the squeaky sand to our drier homes and dream of seaweed between our ankles.