It Was a Time of Innocence
Summer was a climb through sea breezes,
discovering childhood on crusty rock jetties,
and pulling strength through our muscles
as the sun licked and stained our skin
coffee and bright berry tints.
We scrambled like crabs across stones,
sought angular shapes in rocks, and folded
our legs into boulders formed like genteel
chaise lounges. We reclined those days
away in sea air. And when afternoon spun
time into waves, we would cast our eyes
like fishermen into rock pools, wreaking
tidal havoc on life. Those days, they merged
into a single passage of summer’s end.
It was a time of discovering innocence.
The summer of 1959 at Westport, WA. My sister and I
spent weeks playing on the rock jetties, prizing
starfish off rocks, and poking sticks in tidal pools.