No pictures, only images....

Does it seem strange to see a lone man wading into the sea before dawn? The darkness must play on one's mind, posing questions.
As I wade naval deep, something catches my eye in a small flopping wave. I watch closely and at last a small diving duck bobs to the surface. A coot perhaps. I wish I knew the names of the ducks. I wish I knew so much more.
I look at the large motel and see a woman come out on the veranda in her housecoat. She is there to witness the birth of today. It is overcast and clouds are in layers and I know that the soft pinks in the east will meld and blend and catch fire in a few minutes.
A signal comes into the headphones. It is deep and indistinct. Three scoops and I am looking at a green quarter. I have found a low spot, a gentle depression in the scheme of the ocean bottom. My next signal is a silver ring. There is hope. I crisscross the area. I can feel when I am leaving the productive area because I become shallower.
There are not many targets.
A shrimp boat is to the north, black on the sea of black.
The red sun peeks over the sea and lifts. I should not watch but I do. As the sun rises behind the clouds it becomes distorted, oblong, squeezed in the center, an hourglass shaped time piece in the heavens.
The woman on the balcony is satisfied with the sky painting, takes one last look and goes through the sliding glass door. I see the sunrise in the glass door and in the glass of all of the doors and windows of the motel.
A couple more targets and I see a detectorist coming down the beach, the sun glinting off his metal shaft as he swings.
I wade in and we talk. It is Rick. We've met before. He has found a ring. We discuss and cuss the beach. And we talk about the impending doom, the renourishment.
Beachcomber once said, "Low tide waits for no man."
My session in the waves has been short this morning and yet....what can one say when one has seen another sunrise? I have been given another day to feel the cold saltwater run down into my wetsuit, to smell the ocean, to see what so few see and I am thankful.