The Call
Olympic Mountains and Salish Sea
Dungeness Spit, Sequim, Washington
On a deserted beach, where misty mountains fall from rippled sky into the rolling sea, my shoes slip on the expanse of wet rocks laid bare by the receding tide. Yet I am irresistibly drawn to the water’s edge. There is something in this wild place, this untamed sea, that calls to me. It ruffles my heart like the wind in my hair and stirs a longing within. Borne like breath through the air, it is felt not heard, yet summons all the same; to some other place, in some other time, where souls fly free and dance in dreams of evanescent light.
The Call
Olympic Mountains and Salish Sea
Dungeness Spit, Sequim, Washington
On a deserted beach, where misty mountains fall from rippled sky into the rolling sea, my shoes slip on the expanse of wet rocks laid bare by the receding tide. Yet I am irresistibly drawn to the water’s edge. There is something in this wild place, this untamed sea, that calls to me. It ruffles my heart like the wind in my hair and stirs a longing within. Borne like breath through the air, it is felt not heard, yet summons all the same; to some other place, in some other time, where souls fly free and dance in dreams of evanescent light.