Turnstones

I have a thinking place. A small, local beach where I photograph birds and take walks in the frothy waves. There are Thinking Man rocks, and someone is always building a sand castle. It is a close place that feels far away, and it is sacred to me.

At times of the year, Turnstones pepper the shore. They are anxious, always watching, turning, picking, and moving.  When I walk, they race along the shore ahead of me, expert at maintaining a constant distance, always glancing back at me. I always want to get closer, but they are resolute in their safe distance. I can definitely respect that.