Beach Buoy had been awake ages.
He had laid in bed, thankful that it was Sunday not Monday.
By 5-08a.m. the kettle had boiled.
By 6-11, Beach Buoy was on the beach alone.
For the second Sunday in a row, Another Dog was having none of it.
The biggest surprise was that she hadn't left a note asking Beach Buoy to buy her a morning paper on the way back!
The 7 a.m club were in the distance to the south as were Team Distant Wave.
To the north, seafront windows took it in turns to reflect the morning sunlight.
Horizon cloud hid the moment of sunrise.
Typical in an otherwise clear sky.
A late arrival to the 7 a.m. club passed by with his lovely polar bear of a dog.
" Morning Paul."
"Morning."
Arms were waved as if to second the greetings.
Twelve Oyster Catchers; a Parcel, flew over the water's edge. Their calls seemed to echo off one another.
The Sun cleared the low cloud.
The wet sand gave gorgeous reflections.
Up ahead Team Distant Wave and the
7 a.m. club have joined forces.
They headed back as one to the north.
They stopped to chat to a passing jogger.
Dogless Beach Buoy managed to pass by unnoticed, down by the water's edge.
It would save all of the
"Where is she ?"
questions.
Beach Buoy continued south.
He had a strange thought as he looked at the reflections on the beach.
"How come something across the river,
(The Steel Works.)
reflect on this beach?
"Morning Mate."
It was 6-40 a.m.
Beach Buoy added some stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
He drank coffee.
He thought thoughts, good and bad.
He thought more thoughts, happy and sad.
"See you mate, miss you "
He headed back to the beach.
He walked to the sea
He walked to the Sun.
The sea was lovely.
The sunlight was face and heart warming.
Beach Buoy faced the Sun.
He cupped his hands as if washing his face from a sink.
With sunlight splashing on his face he began to wash away those cold, dark and long months.
November fell first, into the sea like a shed skin.
It swirled around in the shallows, almost coming back to shore before being taken out to sea.
December fell, then tumbled to the dunes in the breeze.
January fell day by day, like flakes of snow.
February was snatched by greedy gulls.
Gone...
Cleansed Beach Buoy headed back.
A man walked along by the sea.
Every now and then he would self-consciously crouch to take a close up photograph.
Team Muzzled Dog set off south as Beach Buoy returned to the van.
BEACH BUOY.
