Rocks wait, for eternity, it seems, for something to happen.
As the water rushes by at Hurricane Shoals,
I tune the world out and listen to the waves.
I fly away with the mosquitoes that buzz around.
Maybe some obnoxiously loud kid at the park
across the way will shut up if I bite him.
This place used to be so quiet, so sweet and soft.
I remember them, each and every boulder and wave ripple.
The inter-tubes, and the pounding waves,
or rather the small waves that seemed larger
than they were to a seven year old trapped in a four year old's body.
Since then I ran, and now I am home again,
sitting next to Barney and Sal,
my Lab and German Shepherd,
the only things I missed while I was gone.
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