Wheeling Gull Isle September

that brief melancholy passed — like the wind it soared up past her and blew away. 

judah reeled with a bark, that timeless invitation of play. 

later she would cherish this moment as one of the last times she felt close to happy — that fleeting thing more fickle than the wind. 

for now sweetharbor burgeoned with the sound of child’s laughter and rays of brilliant sunshine along a blissful beach.