A new page on which to write, what … Toes scrunch the sand in pleasure feeling texture and the warmth of early morning. Empty coffee mug and a comfy camp chair in which to relish the dawn: two other souls stroll the shore. What is their mindfulness is this morning. Do we witness the same rise and fall of the ocean. Is their peace complete.
Waves crest rock pools and mists meet the sunrise.
There’s a lot seaweed.
There is isn’t there.
A lot of seaweed he repeats this time pointing at the shoreline strewn about with ribbons of green weed.
Just in this one spot, louder this time.
He smiles and nods.
We resume our witness.
Swallows swoop in waves above the weed. Stocatto chirps dare each other over the water’s edge.
See with eyes , hear with souls.
We work the simplicity of life.
Behold the birds of the heaven, that they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not ye of much more value then they? Matthew 6:26