Winter in South Florida brings out the scavengers. The lizards and butterflies hide out while raccoons and turkey buzzards appear.
Bundled up on the beach, T. OCEAN and I are the only ones around except the lifeguard waiting for the 5:00 hour -- standing on the stairs, sweatshirt on, gear packed, face in the sun. A couple appears to the north and photograph themselves in front of the ocean-as-backdrop, then leave. I pull my hood over my head and lie back, eyes to the sky. The expanse is so blue and without end it makes my head feel like it's being crushed, dizzy with space. Into the frame flying high is a turkey buzzard, then another. I look to my left, north -- a swirl of buzzards are heading south plowing through the pale blue space. They appear to be in random formation. A slow-moving tornado of birds, group after group of them migrating to where I haven't a clue. Black specks in the distance, black bird over-head then black spinning specks again.
By it's very (human) desolation the beach in winter can be for me at its most personal and real. Altogether too humanly real when lying down I can also now see at ground level the immensity of scraps of plastic sticking up out of the wind-swept sand. It's everywhere as far as the eye can see!! No space unclaimed in the evening raking light.
I look back up, and return my focus to the sky.
Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper
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