. . . Is the time not come yet?
Are there works still to do?
Lo, the evening has come down upon the shore
and in the fading light the seabirds come flying to their nests. . .

Excerpt from SAIL AWAY BY RABINDRANATH TAGORE

Wake early, we walk in the gorgeous places by the sea. Play in the clay in low tide, beach deserted, except for one young man who is there early to climb the massive boulders–or try, anyway. We swim, Charlie waits and watches. We go further up the beach and browse the impromptu art gallery of balanced rocks on sand some artist or artists have made for all of us who venture here to appreciate. In the afternoon, it’s a yellow flag for caution in the surf, high tide. One strange sensation today: having a Zoom chat with a writer from Egypt. Dramatic difference in place and time and situation. I am producing the IWWG Our Voices Open Mic Thursday afternoon, and she is one of our features. A generous and creative woman facing daunting challenges in her creative expression. I am in awe. Tonight, a quick shower and thunderstorm at sunset, the drama of it all. Sun setting and half moon rising and the stars in the clear black sky on our evening ride home. Sun and moon and stars we all share, they are for all of us, for everyone one us, and not for any one of us alone.