One of the many projects and adventures that my father is embarking on as he begins his “retirement” is writing a book.  To help him along that path he is taking some creative writing courses at the university annex in Knowlton, where he and my mother now live.  The section of the course he is now in is poetry and yesterday morning he sent my sister and me his latest homework assignment.  I have told my father more than a few times that he is no longer allowed to send me emails that make me cry.  Apparently (thankfully) he isn’t listening to me.

Dawn by the Sea

Softly caressing the broad strand,
Restrained by the withdrawing tide,
The sea with its muffled sound stirs us from our sleep.

Remnants of the night’s fog lie low on the beach
Hiding the little birds, whose name I do not know,
Scampering about, not far from our feet.

Our little girls, scampering about as well,
Searching for treasured shells.
Feet pattering on the sand, squeals of discovery and delight.

Our hands are together as we walk
Treasuring the moment, abstaining from talk.

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