The Lake Michigan beach, a huge playpen made of sand, a sandbox, a place to build sandcastles, a playground on the beach for children to stomp around on red cedar chips of wood and bark, a sandy pathway on which to walk, kicking up sand in small hurricanes as you wisp on by.
Dogs in the park, no parking, no dogs without leashes, dogs stirring up sand with the paddling of their feet, paws, pawing the sand dunes, passing by on pavement, puffing up the pride of their owners as their sleek smooth soft fur becomes a place to sink inside your fingers, to stroke the smooth slickness of this furry dog's fancy coat.
Striding over dune grass sticking up out of the ground like sharp swords, a place for aphids to lay eggs, a place for ladybugs to then eat the aphids off the dune grass, not sharp enough to keep off ladybugs, a place like a painting with green leaves countable in unison as a natural fence to divide the lake waters from the sandy shore.
Watching waves brushing on the sand one by one, four foot waves, windiness, whistling like words in the wind as you walk on by. Not caring, not having one worry, worry-lessly wisped away in the wind like buzzing dragonflies soaring overhead paving the way for the dragons to be slain by sharp swords of sharp dune grass.
No more dragons, no more swords, just continuous wily whispering in the winds of the water where to peacefully toss pennies into a wonderful wishing well.
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