Under the nearly full moon the swells are illuminated in a stark silver contrasted with the surrounding black sea, their foaming tails trailing fifty feet or more behind them. The whitecaps on the swells in sync with the tufts of white clouds also illuminated from the moonlight.
But tonight there is more than just to be seen. The swells are picking us up on their shoulders and carrying us forward and setting us swinging at fifteen degrees to either side. It’s not a violent motion any longer, just a rolling like bread being kneaded under the bakers palms. The sound of the waves are soothing and together with the motion, memorizing.
Gazing out at the sea, this is my calm. This is my solitude. My desert and my mountain view. Under the nearly full moon.