Pretty Halcyon Days

How pleasant to sit on the beach,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun,
With ocean galore within reach,
And nothing at all to be done!
No letters to answer,
No bills to be burned,
No work to be shirked,
No cash to be earned.
It is pleasant to sit on the beach
With nothing at all to be done.

How pleasant to look at the ocean,
Democratic and damp; indiscriminate;
It fills me with noble emotion
To think I am able to swim in it.
To lave in the wave,
Majestic and chilly,
Tomorrow I crave;
But today it is silly.
It is pleasant to look at the ocean;
Tomorrow, perhaps, I shall swim in it.

How pleasant to gaze at the sailors,
As their sailboats they manfully sail
With the vigor of vikings and whalers
In the days of the viking and whale.
They sport on the brink
Of the shad at the shark;
If it's windy they sink;
If it isn't, they park.
It is pleasant to gaze at the sailors,
To gaze without having to sail.

How pleasant the salt anaesthetic
Of the air and the sand and the sun;
Leave the earth to the strong and athletic,
And the sea to adventure upon.
But the sun and the sand
No contractor can copy;
We lie in the land
Of the lotus and poppy;
We vegetate, calm and aesthetic,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun.

- Ogden Nash

Tomorrow I'm heading off to Hawaii for a little vacation with my lover, my dude, my main squeeze, my guy who makes the food and walks the dog. We are long overdue for this sort of thing - by which I mean, we have never before done this sort of thing. We travel hard and often, but we do not beach vacation. It's uncharted marital territory, this idea of "laying about," this concept of "relaxing." Who on earth will we be, in this crazy alternate reality?

For myself, I have extremely specific plans to drink all of the rum and to eat all of the things. I also will take lots of beachside morning runs and sit in reverent silence in as many patches of hot sun as I can find. I may throw myself gracelessly into a wave or two, but mostly I just want to wrap myself in beauty and color. I intend to leap face first into the first bush of tropical flowers I can find. This will probably be painful. Also, do bushes have flowers? I bet they do in Hawaii. I want to absorb tropical flowers into my tired soul. I want to sleep forever, but not in a death way. In a delicious comfy pajama-ed windows open to the night air kind of way.

Mostly, I just want the rum. And speaking of delicious things, this poem is fracking delicious. It begs to be read aloud. Do it, now, wherever you are. Who cares if you look ridiculous? Read this poem, now, with flair and dramatic import, and get thee to a rum-based beverage immediately afterwards. Your day will immediately improve. I promise.