This evening as my friend Trish and I watched from a bench
on the bluffs overlooking the ocean
A lone surfer bobbed on the waves and caught a few short,
sweet rides
A line of brown pelicans flew south over our heads like flowing
silk
Dogs sniffed our feet as they passed by
A small blind dog licked Trish’s hand
And then out of the south, the curving line of pelicans
swooped back north, turned out to the ocean, dipped down, flying as close to
the water as they could, like they were surfing, and followed the line of the
waves as far as the eye could see
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