Shoreline

The loons were content to swim beside us. 

Camera shy, they dove below the black water waves if our lens came too close. 

We never knew where they would resurface.

The gulls perched on rocky shelves, ready to soar if we dared to invade, deep into the clouds that danced low upon the water.

Even the sun played hard to get. Glinting upon the waves stirred by an unsuspecting wind. Driftwood fingers pointed, as though issuing a silent warning for us to return from where we came.

Natasha Head