The prompts this week for The Līgo Haibun Challenge are: Monsoon or Haze~
For my haibun entry this week I have chosen the word: Haze
They roll down to the edge of the land, to a curvy world ebbing at their feet. Chubby hands build castles with salted sand and shells are placed on top, with no consideration for the washing away. Time is forever under the transparency of coastal air, so parents can slack in sling chairs. A golden friend can stop retrieving, and a toddler can crawl satisfactorily over one wetted dog nose and two furry, soft shoulders. Shake, shake, shake, boy! He can shake! Seawater licks a pinked cheek.
There is a haze, like the rocking in a mother’s arms perhaps, that all beachgoers willingly settle into. There is a muffle of noises, of voices, and of faint barks from dogs that get mixed like a soup simmering with the lid pressed on. What cooks here is the crescendo of building waves and the sparkle of exposed skin. Along the resounding shoreline a harmonica breathes, people lampoon, and kites flap simultaneously on a seamless summer light that hangs on like the spiny urchin under the pier.
A nettlesome bird tries to break the spell of this perfect canopied day. A beach bag dances away, and kids reluctantly climb the shifty stairs, lagging behind the adults. With sands of time stuck between toes, there is a return to air without water and
water without salt~
a contemptuous haze
for mermaids in tubs