
Scattered clouds dot the pastel evening sky.
The sun’s last rays paint a light glimmer on the rippling sea.

Behind me, I hear rumbling and see rain.

I choose to look at the sea.
The sky reassures me: “There is a way.”
In the morning, the sky melts into the ocean and the ocean vaporizes up to the sky.
The horizon has vanished.
A minimalist gray palette.
In the evening, a blade of pale blue brings back the boundary.
Sunlight floods the horizon.
A rich gray palette.
A fallen redwood becomes the substrate for new growth: moss, fern, redwood sorrel, trees.
A young redwood growing on the root end of the trunk of a fallen one has stretched its root like an arm to reach the ground.
My awed silence pays homage to nature’s resilience.
The setting sun grabs the eyes.
I look at the brightest object in the sky.
But it blinds me to the beauty that is next to it.
I move my head slightly to the left and the sun exits my field of view.
I see the dramatic clouds, the paling sky and the unruffled ocean.