The harbor pilot shifted his vessel out into the open waters, while you and I sipped sunset drinks along the pier. Some of the squawking local birds toyed with the idea of abandoning their overhead flight for a poolside spot to await fallen scraps at the nearby tables and bar. The guests didn’t falter, I’m thankful for that. Because when you embellish the likes of one bird, dozens or more follow and whip up a feather-laden tornado vortex. Our evening remained surprisingly still, even with those wild creatures still flittering about overhead, and we watched the sun sink deep into its aqueous duskdown keep.
(Photo taken by me.)