The sea-chewed remnants of life lay littered on the beachy gums of the La Ventana bay. Toothed debris of wood and seaweed, bleached coral chunks and plastic mark the tidal line. Here lay tossed scattered skeletons of fish: spinal columns, skulls agape with sharp teeth, the leathery, empty sacks of fish skins, discarded vertebrae; the resting place for tenants of the Sea of Cortez, the emptying Aquarium of the World.
Always patrolling are the vultures, always keen for any carrion. Two politely take turns tugging inside a fish head. Two seagulls watch and snatch a lump when the vultures get bored and take to the wing, wind spilling them up to look-out posts. All along the beach, vultures swoop and glide, wobbling on hungry wingtips. Suddenly an osprey in the air, ducking a seagull trying to steal the wriggling fish in its left claw. It disappears, fish still squirming. A squadron of pelicans glide over the water, bellies touching down on gentle waves. They sit watching on the water with their huge bills lowered like mourners. A few frigates arrive, painting black patient lines with forked winds and split tails. These Pacific wanderers hang on the breeze with wings cut like kites, above endless waves, occasionally moving origami wings. Only on New Year’s Eve do I appreciate what the Buddhists say about the transient nature of life: the coming and going of everything, of events and experiences, of thoughts and feelings. We sit on a beach drinking margaritas and watching a sunset made for memories: the sinking sun colours rippled clouds from pale orange to crimson. A bonfire on the beach is lit and the primal summons of the flame licks the sky. People gather as the colours in the sky dim into disappearance. The fire on the beach grows as the fire in the sky slithers out. I suddenly see what a privilege it is to be alive, to be here on this day, to be on this beach with the lapping waves of water and sunlight. To not have the furious hunger of the seabirds, to not be fish bones drying on the sand.
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AuthorA poetic-essay style blog with a limit of 365 words. 365 like the days of the year - my name being one of those days! Archives
March 2020
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