What day is this, that gives itself wholly
into my hand ?
A shimmering gem of a day, sequin-studded
Speeding me into uncensored glimpses
Whispers from lazy murmur of sunbathing
Which lies in cushioned gentility under
How could I be sad today as enchantment
Chance to absorb every which way
this mystical offering
Of milky-soft sounds, rising from under
the deep, proffered
As mixture of liquidy calm , hand-in-glove
Of speckle-stone sunlit coast, both of which
aim to astound
Every which way, and compete to be the
best sight around.
There surely could be no place finer to see
this day, for me.