Sentinel
Eileen Seto
It is the simplicity of the pewter storm clouds that appeals.
The sweep of the stepped breakwater; the stones that were once squeezed together with metal ties that have rotted away like dissolving stitches, leaving scars on the concrete blocks that will never heal.
The sweep rightwards of the breakwater, the flow leftwards of the clouds, balancing one another, pulling away from each other like a tug of war. The sea that laps against the lower tiers, a hint of the coming storm that will whip up the wind and send the waves slapping and crashing over the seawall.
And far in the distance beyond the wide expanse of sea, there is something out there.
A lighthouse on a distant bay?
A buoy, warning sailors to steer well clear?
A sentinel, watching over wind and weather.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, Debra Broughton and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
