Crashing Waves

Along the California Central Coast

The Raptor lifts. It’s claws out. And it’s eyes down. Always on the hunt. Forever moving with the landscape and rising above the trees.
Rising above the noise.

The wind whips. The clouds separate. And then they focus tiny tunnels of light on slimmer pieces of asphalt. Small windows into a summer world that hasn’t quite come.

Windows that offer little glimpses into another day.

The waves roll back. Roll up. And roll out. Crash. With a constantly churning sound. A crush. And they crest and break and eventually dissolve. And the sand sits and watches.

Silently standing back and taking it all in.

Then the hill dives. Tilts left and breaks right, bends back again. Big smile. Drives over a valley and into another floor and eventually opens right up. Hills amongst mountains and all members of an eco-congregation. No book, no coin, no price to pay. Just one long vista to view.
You bring the throttle back all that new daily frustration rolls on out.

Moves on.

Let’s go.

Or at least that’s the theory.

Some days are better than others… And some escapes are more needed…