The Ormond Frisbee

Sitting in the Florida sand,
waiting,
as the girls dance along
the waves.
Screaming and laughter,
as one loses footing
and spits the salty brine.
They stumble, from their time
as mermaids
with sand encrusted feet,
and land
on the beach blanket.
The wind picks up,
it senses the time,
the moment
as warm fingertips toss
its circular form
to drink of the tiny tide pool, and
soar with the Scuttles.

I miss the ocean. I miss the water. I want my mermaid fins.