This morning on my walk I picked up a Sea Purse, which is a little one-inch sea bean that washed in from who knows where--probably the shores of South America. It looks very much like the Hamburger Bean (whose name says it all) except that its "zipper" seam stops short of circling the bean; thus, its name, purse.
Overhead a line of pelicans clouded the sun; thirty-four. I counted. The sand has been littered all week with the unique two-way sail design of Sailors-by-the-Sea and the diaphanous blues of the Portuguese Man of War. The background music is the whoosh of true seafoam-green waves crashing onto the sand. March in Melbourne Beach. That's pure poetry.
Yesterday I had a poetry workshop with nine wonderful participants against that backdrop at the Barrier Island Sanctuary. (My daughter and I anticipate the reading of a creation above.) Tomorrow I'll read poetry out on the deck. Sweet.