On the Beach

It had been some time since I had walked along the surf's edge of an unspoiled beach, so, at this particular time, I was enjoying myself immensely if somewhat quietly. It was the off-season on this particular Outer Banks island of North Carolina and there were almost no surf fishermen. I had some miles of beach and surf to myself except for the busy shore birds frantically probing the wet sand left by the receding waves. Then as the new surge of a breaker swirled toward them, they sped out of its reach with their spindly legs a blur of rapid stepping while their neat bodies remained somehow stable and calm atop.