My soul yearns for water.
I miss the trail, but find better: a direct path to open sky, horizon broad with possibility, moonscape of dry cliffs.
Sand blows sideways, waves break with pure whiteness and crystal sound.
No one or thing in my path but the occasional bird, stranger and discarded hermit crab shell.
Grey sand stretches forth a smooth, gritty expanse until a lone sand dollar bleached brightly appears as beckoning treasure.
I walk in the roaring silence, free, nowhere to be.
I sit and stare at the sea, through squinting eyes and blowing hair.
Sand, surf and wind refresh with salty turmoil.
I find space in my mind.
Turning fresh journal pages I open black ink.
Words splash like waves around the lines, thoughts, ideas and broken shells converging, seeking connection to the jagged world outside this bright place.
An empty beach at Point Reyes rejuvenates the slate of my soul.