We went to the beach today. A favourite place to be and greeted with much enthusiasm by both children. It felt like we had snatched a day of holiday out of our ordinary week. Cold and grey, but fun.
It reminded me of this poem by e.e. cummings
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles, and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea