Poetry in point reyes

When I thought about writing a post about our day in Point Reyes, I thought it would be so much better to just write a poem.

How else can such beauty be described, than in a poem? How can you talk of the breeze and water and sand without describing the movement of breath from your chest? Or the beauty of seeing your family running along the coastal water without understanding the philosophy of life?

 It was a day of poetry, truly. We ran amuck and unchecked by nothing but the water itself, who splashed up against us in our little game. The cliffs, the rocks, sat stoichly as we shouted deafly to them.  We rejoiced in our luck to have the waving grass, the open hillsides, and the endless pacific as our playground. We met with a beetle, who slowly crawled along, and a ladybug, who sat as a sign of universal power.

Nothing is more romantic or more powerful than being one with nature, and for that day at least, there was no difference between our skin and the sand, or our nerve impulses with the crashing of water on the rocks.