Misty

Sitting by the shore watching mist make things disappear--big solid things like container ships and islands and long stretches of beach--I feel like the last survivor of a catastrophe or the first person awake at the dawn of creation. The waves roll in, the waves roll out, sand shimmers in the light and then disappears beneath a wall of fog. I hear the waves pounding but can't see them, the ocean suddenly invisible. I've come to watch the water but it hides behind the mist and if I wait a minute longer, I too will disappear. The mist makes everything incorporeal, even me. Perhaps that's why I'm here.