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Dock of The Bay

I paused for reflection at the end of the dock.

I paused for reflection at the end of the dock.

Something there is about a pier that leads us to walk to the end of it and stare aimlessly into the distance. There’s a metaphor floating around in there, no doubt, something to do with the brevity of life, the vanity of all aspiration, the transcendent beauty of the quiet sea.

The geometry of movement and stillness, reflection and shadow, produces a captivating grid.

The geometry of movement and stillness, reflection and shadow, produces a captivating grid.

It’s quiet on the dock in the early morning, before the sailors and fishermen begin the rock and roll of boats in motion.

Another postcard moment unfolds.

Another postcard moment unfolds.

Take a deep breath. Take another. Time drifts on the silent tide.

Birds on the bay share the view every day.

Birds on the bay share the view every day.

Birds may have tiny brains but they know how to drink in the moment. I’m still working on it.

 

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