Noon at the lagoon

I tried to walk it off
                               (instead of keeping me in)
                             heading afoot toward the lagoon
                                     (a Tuesday at noon)
For peace sake,
                        with the marine layer pushed back
                            convinced, I headed onshore
                        (at times against the salty breeze)
Attacking it sideways
                       and I knew my grandfather would have said
                                              Invictus-perhaps
                                                  (I plod on)
Not exercising, I stood out,
                         with my pedestrian thoughts
                                       (aimless wandering)
                             but I find sense sometimes...
At the lagoon, bright blue-green
                          speckled with orange
                          Garibaldi all along the riff-raff
Ah-the smell! Simply incredible, soulfully edible,
                         (through rose colored glasses)
                                        savory and savoring the solitude...
And I did find what I was not looking for-
                                        On cue-loudly from the rocks below
                                        a ground squirrel stood chirping, erect,
                                        ear piercing, his body jolting- he sung
                                        (bellowing for none)
Happy with his little self,
                                         a lone mammal on the precipice
                                         squawking on a Tuesday
because he had something good to say,
in a barking beechey marmot way.
                                          I think he said I should stop
                                          (chip) monking-around
                                          I heard him, loud and clear.