Kalaloch Beach 4: Life all the way down

Out over the treasury. Where creek & tide meet, ten thousand sandstone coins worn flat & round, vast wealth of beauty. Stones shrinking as we spread, like the snowmelt strength of creek's spring, over this flat expanse, til only sand is left to be carried by the swooning current's alluvial fingertips. Beach. The twice-daily winter of low tide. Huge carpets of anemones huddle into themselves, colors muted in the fresh air, while crabs watching winged shadows crowd into the last watery cracks of the sea-stack rocks. With unfair power we step carefully; in this place each inch could be alive, or more, the only difference between object and organism, life and death, is how closely we look.

Cormorant, resting wings drying

--clap of ocean spray!

already gone.

Otters play in crashing waves that would kill a human. The ocean's depths churn on, unseen.