Feathers on the Wind

Feathers on the Wind
​The shallow water laps my feet, buried under the cool, coarse sand. I wiggle my toes and see them peek out from under the light brown, but not a uniformed shade, a speckled light brown interspersed with blacks and whites and yellows. Crisp and clear, the surf ripples in the rising wind, and soon it rages against the shore. The sea birds twist and dive through the blue expanse above my head, and I see one lose a feather. I watch it fall into the ocean as the warm summer sun beats down on my neck and shoulders, at its peak, a sun that I do not often see without the school day to rise me. The sun that I am more familiar with changes the glowing dunes into long shadows that eat away at the beach, leaving it in shade long before the elevated parking lot. But this sun, although unfamiliar, feels just as warm and welcoming, highlighting the white caps on the water and shiny rocks on the coast, drying my damp bathing suit, warming my dark hair and the shallow water I stand in, providing a warm sky for gulls to ride the breeze. The continuous push and pull of the waves takes the feather far away and rushes out a continuous song with a beat I will hear long after leaving. The pebbles I see in the sand nearby clack as they roll over and around each other, adding to the music. Most of them have smoothed out, and those that have not, I know will soon feel just as round and polished as the rest. The wind whips my hair around my face so I turn into it, facing away from the crowd of beach goers that cluster close to the beach house and parking lot. I see the unbroken stretch of sand ahead of me because I have walked past the mass of people. I can imagine myself as the only one there, with nothing but the waves, wind, birds, and sand as company. I am not lonely because this place I love, forever changing, but always remaining the same.