Listening for seals

We can hear the soft music of the wind through the grass.
We can hear the waves gently turning pebbles that roll smooth on the beach below, sorting them with fingers of waves, polishing them with water.
We can hear the piping alarm calls of the orange beaked oyster catchers as they rise and fly low over the slate gray water.
We can hear the rattle of the breeze in the bones of the dry bracken.
We can hear a thin waterfall as it tumbles to a small pool in the stones of the beach, fresh water mixing with salt.
We can hear a distant buzzard high, circling in the slate dark sky, searching.




A seal waits in the water. The first of the females, sleek head and beautiful, large dark eyes and white whiskers. The first of the gathering.