It’s a windy day. Lake Michigan waves crest the rocky shore of Washington Island where I’m in a one room beach house, tethered to a chair, seeking memorable words.
Diving seagulls disappear in whitecaps. Undulating waters of seersucker silvers, whites, and blues, glisten beneath cumulous clouds and robin’s-egg-blue sky. Scraggly evergreens and thistle laden brush struggle to survive in the pounding that assaults them.
Pens, pencils, papers, and books, laptop, printer, and post-it-notes, cover tables and chairs. The pile of scrapped pages grows.
Pink striated rocks, pock-marked rocks, rocks with imprints of crustaceans, pile one upon the other, waiting to be found before they are worn into sand.
Scenes rise and fall, active verbs, scintillating adjectives compete.
Warm wind, warm sun, warm water extend an invitation…step outside.