A Morning Walk On The Beach


Aging & Attitude

   The sound, faint in the distance, gathers intensity, as I walk closer. I take my shoes off, and listen to the crescendo, an orchestra’s percussion section; a drum roll of rapidly boiling water rising above a pot edge with white peaks cascading down the side.  I inhale the salty sea air and watch cotton ball clouds hug the horizon as I walk.

The waves have an agenda, moving in shifts, and as the percussion section works its wonder toward the shore, the horns step in, and trumpets whip the water into peaks of sweet cream. Violins and harps join the frolic near the shoreline and linger as the residue changes to beer foam.

I pickup my pace, let the water tickle my toes and remove my hat because the sun is hiding behind a group of clouds. The waves roll back and reveal a pink coquina rock naturally shaped like an alligator, with a twisted tail, protruding neck, and eyes bulged for a better view. The rock earns a lingered look.

Today the sand is speckled with small sea shells scattered above the high tide line like bathers on a popular beach.

The birds do their rapid two-step to imagined music in the air.

A single crane maintains an elegant stance, ready to do a ballerina dance as I leave the beach wishing I had a camera and reduced to words.

                                                                             …. Just Saying