Not long after dawn on a mid-summer day the morning sun began to burn off the cooling curtain of mist that the Atlantic night had left behind. The dune grass bent to a light breeze and soft waves lapped at the powdery sand as a pod of dolphins played in the ocean just beyond the end of the jetty. A few early strollers on the promenade shared the fragile quiet with a group of piping plovers that danced at the water’s edge, teasing the waves whose watery fingers reached gently up the beach.
At a restaurant on the pier a sleepy waitress pours the first of countless cups of coffee. A few blocks across town a man awakes to the sound of seagulls arguing on a neighbor’s rooftop. Somewhere a rope flaps against a flagpole in the light wind. Later that day someone would snap a picture which, many years in the future, would be held gently in aging hands while the scent of marsh grass in the distance rides a warm breeze through an open window carrying a rush of vivid memories of summers long gone by……
The Working Stiff
(Written many years ago when I was trying to be “arty”)