[NEohioPAL] Beach Bard

[Terrence J Smith]

On vacation near St. Augustine last week, I would sneak down to the beach
in the early morning, not a soul around for miles, a steady breeze, medium
sized waves coming and going.  Not many places you can have such an
expansive view while reciting lines and know that you won't be surprised
by someone, as you would if you were on your lunch hour downtown, or even
in the house at night.  But the beach is different, far enough away from
the condos and homes, combined with the white noise of wind and surf,
where you you can move, gesticulate, get guttural, even though the lines
don't require it, and Montague says:

Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs.
But all so soon as the all cheering sun
Should in the farthest east begin to draw
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
Away from light steals home my heavy son

Or Friar Lawrence:

The grey eyed morn smiles on the frowning night
Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
>From forth days path and Titan's fiery wheels
Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye

Or at night, backing away from the creeping fog lest it draw you in and
out to sea, Friar Lawrence to Juliet:

When presently through all thy veins shall run
A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse
Shall keep his native progress, but surcease,
No warmth, no breath shall testify thou livest.

The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade

To paly ashes, thy eyes windows fall
Like death when he shuts up the day of life.
Each part, deprived of supple government,
Shall stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death.


A vacation to remember, wonderful beach.

Terry Smith