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.
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.