Water
written by: Lois Perch Villemaire
Waves burst into white foam
hitting the underside of the pier
I snap a photo of the blue sky
kissing the ocean
Like us a few scattered walkers
amble along the shoreline
April sun a preview of the season
we follow sneaker imprints
in the sand and a few bare feet
This is the same beach
I played on as a 10-year-old
the summer we lived down the shore.
My brothers and I jumped the waves
then swam out pulling behind us
the rope of our canvas rafts
until we turned onto our bellies
riding to the shallow
That summer my mother was pregnant
due in September
she sat on the beach by an umbrella
supervised from her lounge chair
laughing as we poured bucketsful
on her legs to cool her off.
Lois Perch Villemaire is the author of My Eight Greats, a family history in poetry and prose, and Eyes at the Edge of the Woods, a poetry chapbook (Bottlecap Press) 2024. Her work has appeared in The Ekphrastic Review, ONE ART: A Journal of Poetry, Artists From Maryland, Spillwords Press, and elsewhere. A number of Anthologies such as I Am My Father’s Daughter have included her poetry and memoir flash. She was the winner of the Haiku Challenge in Pen in Hand July 2023 and she is a contributing writer to AARP The Ethel. Lois lives in Annapolis, MD, where she volunteers at the local library, practices yoga, researches family connections, and propagates African violets.
Latest posts by Lois Perch Villemaire (see all)
- Water - June 11, 2026
- Just Before the Wedding - March 7, 2026
- Sunday Morning Yoga - November 16, 2025
