Winter Beach

The sea is deep green darkening further out on an indigo horizon, frothing in whirlpools of white where it laps the sand coming in close to the cliff. Above the cliff-top trees a small hawk sails over in one long glide of still wings, so close that I look up and see the dark beak and eye red throat and golden belly. It’s long since I inquired what messages the natural world would speak into my mind. Today there is nothing. I watch the ocean roll and the hawk pass magnificently indifferent.