The Calm After the Storm

It was early and cold when I arrived at the beach. The tide was now out and the corrugated sands seemed vast. It was the day after the rains and the floods and the high tides. The angry sea had stormed up the beach to clash with the raging rivers. Their fight for territory had left flotsam strewn across No-Man’s Land. The television reported as much, with similar skirmishes across the land.

And in the calm after the great retreat, children claimed the territory as their own. Now they ran and splashed in the casualties left behind. Eventually the children beat their own retreat – when their boots became sodden and their fingers became numb and hot chocolate became priority over crumpled sands and pools that reflected yesterday.