Water returns to water, dreams return to sky

A little note from last week, a few days along the ocean, a few dreams.

The moon last night was a half globe of molten light. Over the water it lit a shimmering path toward the town, the city. The rushing waves caught every speck of light running up and back along the beach. All night they sang, gently mostly but at times an aria came high and loud. This morning a ribbon of scarlet and gold foretold the arrival of the sun. A trumpet of color, a herald of what was coming. It is cold out and breezy and yet people are at the edge of the water waiting; the way you wait for a late child or a lover long away. There is no pacing just a long (a longing) look toward the east.