On The Beach Poem by Jim Boone

</> It's 5: 30, another work week
done; I head for the garage,
my feet want to run. I slide
into my freedom machine
and turn the key
the engine ignites, the gears
respond to my need to be
set free.

I quickly leave the city
hustle - a right turn
and I'm on my way, as the
wind lifts and plays with my
hair, headed south on the
super highway.

Now the cares of the week
are lifting, carried away on
a liberating breeze
I begin to smile and sing a
tune; over the next bridge
and I'm almost back again -
back to the little house on
the beach - it floats in the
air, on long legs unbending,
and sturdy; there is serenity
everywhere.

Now the sun has nodded
and gone down; night is
upon us without a sound,
except for the tranquil lull-
a-by of the ocean's roar,
as it rolls in and out, just
outside the door. 1975