Off

Underneath my heart is the sun, peeking through expectant windows into my closed eyes,

And like that I am off.

Off out of my bed, sprinting barefoot like a dog just out of a cage,

Off to the kitchen, where a breakfast of crispy frosted flakes is consumed within seconds,

Off through the dewy lawn followed by the panting, elderly hound, grass sticking in between my toes,

Off sprinting down the 124 stairs, finding the speed just before a fall would be inevitable,

Off to the beach, the sand greeting my toes like a long lost friend, clutching a neon bucket and a desire to unearth any crustacean that makes itself visible to me.

Off before my brothers, trailing behind with shouts of “wait up!”

Off to the rocks, not minding the smell of low tide,

Off like a shot, to the first rock I see, swiping aside the damp seaweed in search of my first prize.

Off goes the covering of my first capture as his claws spring up in a defense mechanism that I could surely break.

Off through the air, then the sand, then the shell, my hand grasps the feisty young crab, the first of the year.