Ocean’s Whispers
The longer I sat, the more I questioned why I was sitting fifty yards from the beach, hidden from view by neighboring houses, when the ocean was waiting patiently, just beyond my sight.
I could hear it. I could smell it. I could taste its salty remnants.
It was whispering quietly to come near in the way it does even from three thousand miles away.
I could no longer ignore its beckoning.
I grabbed my coffee, journal, and pen. Past the ten stilted condominiums separating me from the ocean, I found my own private lot on the beach to watch the six a.m. waves gently fold in. I sat transfixed at the foaming outskirts, waiting, patiently waiting.
Jordy Mack Art 