Wolfku Musing 37

Each night, the tide dreams
a new sandy masterpiece
for dawn to cherish

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 When I first moved up from Los Angeles to Crescent City, California, I would walk the sandy Pacific Ocean beach every morning the tide would allow—yes, there were certainly days where the tide would be so high that I would have to swim, or at the least wade, rather than walk to move along the beach—and most such mornings I would marvel at the new sand patterns left behind, as it retreated—called by the moon—by the previous night’s tide.

Considering what a wonderful stroll the beach offered, very few people took advantage and so missed not only some heavenly exercise but also the amazing artwork left by the tide.

The tide, at ebb now, did not seem to care one bit who enjoyed or appreciated these sand paintings and I drew the conclusion that they were made simply for the dawn’s benefit. It rang true, though the dawn herself remained mum on the subject.

These days, I still walk along the Pacific coastline, but now I follow the road—way more predicable than the sandy beach just a stone’s throw in Japan’s direction.

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