I walked down to the pier tonight and in fact doing so has become an almost nightly ritual with me. Strolling past the bait shop, I spied a heron, in the shallows, and even a little fish jumped up, as if to greet me. Others had reached the pier before me, so I sat at a distance from them and after a short while everything but the sky, the ocean, and I ,disappeared. There was just this magic communion between the rushing of the waves, the never-ending sky, and the beating of my earth- bound heart. There is a fluid solace and sense of belonging there, that saturates every fiber of my existence and I give myself over to it with utter abandon. It isn't hard to understand what has driven men to the sea for eons upon eons....she is a siren and I too have heard her call. I wish you could see how lovely it is when the street lamps send out their fingerlings of filigreed gold and molten silver, to waltz across the foamy waves. I keep telling myself to remember to bring my camera, but somehow I always forget. Perhaps it would lose some of the magic that makes it my sacred harbor if I tried to capture it with anything but my mind. Oh well...I am tired and with a shirt that smells of the fresh sea air, I shall take myself off to bed. Sweet dreams!!
Anna Bond’s Black-and-White Florida Home
8 hours ago