Nestled among the Rocks


My head rests on a driftwood pillow.  I breathe in the shore’s roar, the March sun’s warmth.  Just past my feet, water from an unseen spring carves a three-foot river with one-inch banks into the wet sand.

My eyes open and close.  A golden eagle rides an invisible air current overhead.  The afternoon drifts by and I marvel.  The sun seems not to move — holding steady at a 45 degree angle on the horizon.

A chill sweeps through me.  Reluctantly, I rise and make my way slowly back along tall earthen banks holding rows of cedars bent by ocean winds in place.


In peace, we commune.  The ocean.  The sand.  The rocks.  Eleven humans.  One tired, limping dog.  Three eagles.  Dozens of gulls and shore birds.  Two spiders.  The sun.  The sky.  A few clouds.  The banks.  The cedars.  The ivy.  The grasses.  And me.