Copyright © 2017
by Ralph F. Couey
There is something peaceful, even hypnotic in the sound of a beach on a calm day. The waves roll in, responding to impulses of wind and tides originating far out to sea. A small rolling hill emerges from the flat seas, moving shoreward. As it closes the beach, it slows down and grows. At the point where the top of the wave is moving faster than the base, the top begins to curl. Looking carefully, one might spot fish caught in the translucent green-blue wall. A line of foam appears and the crest curls forward, creating a tube. Then with a sort of muffled "whoomph" the water hits the sand, followed by a hissing as the water races over the sand, almost as if it were taking a breath after a long, tough journey. The water glides in before running out of momentum, and returning to the sea. In sharp counterpoint, seagulls contribute their characteristic shrill cries.