The sky shimmered with a cold,Gray,angry dawn.Restless,dark,and full of sound,the sea hammered against the rocks and rose up to punch its white fits into the raw and bitter air.Summer would have a fight on its hands before it could beat back winter.
Nothing could have pleased me more.
I stood on the shore,my mood as fitful as the churning water below.I watched it spew up from the rocks,ice-edged and mean,and drew in the ancient violence of its scent.
I slept poorly,tangled in dreams I blamed on temper as much as travel fatigue.
I was big on dreaming.it was dark when I had given up on sleep,and had dressed in a green sweatshirt and dun coloured slacks of soft cotton.
I sipped that coffee,strong and black,out of a big black mug and watched dawn claw its way to life in the unhappy eastern sky.
The rain had stopped,but it would come back,I thought.The temperatures had dropped slightly through the night.There would me more rain.That was fine,that was dandy.
The wind rose,sneaking under my sweater like hands grabbing at flesh.The first thin drops of rain fell.I turned away from the sea..
The steady beam of great light continued to circle on the white tower,shooting out over the water and the rock though there were no ships within its range.From dusk to dawn,year after year,I thought,it never failed.some would look and see romance,but when I studied the sturdy whitewashed tower,I saw reliability.
In the distance the house was still dark and sleepy,a fanciful silhouette from another time etched against an unforgiving sky.
