The beach stays here all day when I am at work and does its thing.
Waves back and forth.
Birds on the water.
Surfers.
People taking pictures.
Walking.
Throwing balls for their dogs.
But the beach stays here even if I am not here to see it.
Waves like breaths in out in out.
So alive.
It has its moods. Has its rests and is quiet.
Changes the sands like brushing its hair.
Flat and smooth sometimes and messy and ruffled when the wind and the people feet mess it all up.
Then the tide comes in and smooths it down again.
It reaches towards me at high tide beckoning, calling me, reminding me it is there.
At low tide it goes back into itself and takes care of business.
Maybe the tide pools are exposed maybe not.
It doesnt care.
The beach the bay is taking care at low tide.
Reconstituting.
Recycling, reclaiming itself.