It is always with us,
the sound of the ocean waves churning on the rocks in front of the cottage,
but last night, all day today, and even still tonight, it is thunderous.
The full moon and a mean storm last night stirred the ocean's pot a wee bit.
Salt spray and sea foam spilled up over the rocks
until spots where we normally stand high,
peering down on the sea's expanse were dwarfed by breakers.
We walked along the ocean road and let the spray wash over us.
I'm thinking back to late last night--or very early morning--the wind shook the house to wake me. I stood in the bedroom window and watched as the waves raced toward me under the moon's gaze. I think it was my sleep-muddled brain talking, but I had that strange feeling you sometimes get when your plane hits turbulence and you think, "Hmmm . . . what if this is it?" And then I blinked a few times and calmly went back to bed; my cat meowed once, quite lazily, as if to scold me for disrupting his sleep. Then he snuggled in as close as he could behind my knees, and I fell into dreams of the sea and the moon and a boat that looked oddly like the cottage where we, a man, and woman, and two furry beast, all lay fast asleep.