I arise at first light and shuffle sleepily past the windows and darkened rooms, through the trees and dunes, down to the buffeted shore. The rocks reach up from the black sea, hulking silhouettes on the pale horizon. When the wind is right they will make music. One morning I listened as they played to a hundred pelicans taking flight. I believe they have played to thousands. Not far to the south, a stream of clear mountain water collides with the teeming Pacific. Small silver fish flash in the riffles. Sandpipers dash and dart in their skirmish with the waves. Strewn about the sand are pebbles that glow, pieces of shell that vibrate with color. I have seen the sun set here in every season. I have seen the moon between the rocks. I have seen Venus part the clouds. It is cold now, not yet spring.
From "Moves Between Worlds"
(c) 2012 Eric Walter