It’s the
twang that clenches my teeth.
I know it’s a bird on the spreaders near the top of the mast. Then there’s the
squawk.
A crow.
Under my
covers I curse.
Should I
get up and scare it away? Or will it leave its breakfast all over the deck
anyway.
Most days I
sleep on.
This
morning I was awakened before dawn. Spring was calling. Puddles of rain bashing
down on the coach house roof.
I’m
scheduled to be up in 15 minutes anyway. Instead I lay and listen.
Memories of
being a kid and sleeping in a tent in the backyard during the summer flood in.
Thunderstorms shouted the unusual. Something we didn’t know sleeping inside.
Once the
routine is complete I’m off into the dingy. The oars glide through the mask of
the sea. A peaceful whoosh sounds the day.
The geese
are hanging out. The other morning a white duck.
Tonight,
dragon boaters. There’s more then ten to a boat. They work hard as they paddle
by. Someone shouts commands. The rest follow hard.
The wake rustles
my conscious. It’s the ferry boat zooming by.
Our lives
are busy.
Tonight the
wind is calm. The diesel heater flumes the heat.
Canucks fans cheer loudly. We must have scored.
All this
life I hear on the sea, and more.
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