Hot.
Dry.
Whispering to him.
The little baby boy playing in the sand dunes.
Leaking pure happiness.
Not wondering why or how they got to be there
Under his feet, but
Lost in the moment.


The sand stretches on
F
o

r

e


v


e



r
Surrounding him in
Cinnamon sugar.

The breeze is warm
Against his face.
Footprints not made by him
But by other people and animals,
Lead trails to anywhere
And everywhere.
Looking like giant tracks
Next to his year old path he’s made.
The footprints are tiny, and very close together.

He stands there for what seems like
Forever.
Then it is time to say goodbye to the sand dunes.
Time to go
Home.
But the dunes and their magic are remembered.