With Jesus building sand castles
     and synagogues
with his plastic pail and spoon,
she breathes softly,
listening to the
    sea gulls, pigeons,
    chatter, and waves  —
sometimes, to feel the smooth coarseness
  of crushed shells beneath her feet,
to watch the other bathers,
    to see their tattoos and companionship,
but mostly,
   to come to this
   this sense of timeless being
            of timeless breathing
   to feel forever beautiful
   as the sun and wind
          whisper her to sleep. . .