Waves crash hard.
It's cool, but as we walk down the dirt path, crossing roots of trees that look like stairs, the warmth of the sun finally stamps onto my skin.
Faces meet and feet greet the rocks that make up the sand, and ice cold miniature creeks that flow from a waterfall nestled close by the cliffs.
Light brown and green sea-foam color the shores.
Pressing toes in-between small stones on wet lands, I saunter.
Glimpses of shells, crab bones, and drift-wood pass eyes as we ebb and flow with ocean.
The music comes from her mouth and invokes a deep rest.
Bone deep kinda rest where thoughts seem to hammock and a presence etched in curiosity is summoned.
I catch a wave of its medicine lingering in my body as I settle home.
-Grant Durr
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