Linda Jeannette Ward

Ebb Tide

Whimbrel Cottage, rescued from a series of nor'easters, has a new south deck, a shelter from north winds that often blow on my autumn and spring retreats. Settling into the May sun, I seem to melt into the familiar sea-meets-sky atmosphere while gentle waves whirlpool each piling that elevates the cottage above ghost crabs, shore birds and passersby. From here I can see all the way up and down the beach and to the horizon. In the distance, where the cottages end and the wildlife refuge begins, the silhouette of a woman walking a dog comes into view, her skirts billowing gently. I turn back to face the sea, meditating awhile, the ocean's deep breaths measuring mine. When I open my eyes, I notice the woman will soon pass below me and I smile, anticipating hers . . .

ebb tide-
her seeing-eye dog
sets the pace