Dustus Blog

Skipped a flat stone over the ocean-glazed tidal withdrawal spot.  It’s raw, chilly, so misty tonight. Put my hoodie over head to cover the back of my damp neck. I stop shivering. There’s a faint seaward scent of saltwater and fish harboring the breezy seascape air. Moist deserted sand sticks to my sneaker sides as if they were breaded…. Nobody else appears here.

The ink-bleeding Gothic sky seeps through a milky wash of fog like an apparition suspended above the healing waves crash. There initial roar, successive splashing, all chiming into a murmurous drone reverberating the cascade of whitecap crests collapsing into the sprawl of sea foam bubbles…. And I keep thinking I feel at home now, yet believe it matters less where one’s soul finds rest…. So long as it inevitably does.