The storm approaches the shore.
A spray of water hits my face.
The salty breeze lifts tendrils of hair.
Palm trees sway and bend.
The sand ripples
from the increasing wind.
Birds flee for safety.
Waves crash against the rocks.
The sky darkens to red in its anger,
raining tears across the land and sea.
When will it end?
Once the sky calms,
the sun will shine.
The birds will return.
The tantrum will be over.
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Purple sprays my face.
Orange blinds my eyes.
Ice coats my toes.
Salt whips my hair.
I shut my eyes and walk.
My heels dig into the wet sand.
I move deeper into the water.
Waves attack my shivering body.
I waver for a moment.
Then I continue my journey.
I slit my eyes open.
The sky burns red.
The sun has lowered its face.
I stand in icy water in muted colors of amber.
Time to return to the shore.
Or not.
I continue to walk.
Water surrounds me.
Icy water.
I’m pulled deeper.
Waves drag me
from the shore.
I swim.
I tread water.
My head above the water,
I will survive.
The ocean roars its fury.
It removes any intruders.
No boats to drift on its surface.
No swimmers to ride its waves.
Frustration hits the rocks.
Anger raises the wave swells.
Birds flee.
The sun hides.
We wait.
Will the waters recede?
The answer lies in the ocean’s depths.
Someone watches me from the water.
A head bobs in the shallow waves.
Yellow eyes sparkle in the sunlight.
A man rises from the waves.
A man in a wet suit.
The yellow spots must have been
a reflection from the sun.
Ouch.
I’m shot.
He shot me with a spear gun.
Too late.
I’m falling.
Will I wake to find
it had been a bad dream?
I hope so.
The beauty of nature.
It is a living and breathing
sculpture.
It entices us.
It bemuses us.
It challenges us.
But most of all,
it inspires us.
