The drama of that sky just got to me.

I had missed being at the beach.  Being out of town meant walking in the suburbs.  No water, no roar, no sky reaching out to greet me.  No briny scents, no wind, no foaming fuming waves.  No rocks, no sand, no folded cliffs.  No skitterers or stranded sea lions.  A few stray ducks, morose over their unfilled artificial pond in the park.   Several rose gardens, lovely indeed, but they can’t really compete — not for my affections, anyway.

That sky seems like the curtain, the water is the stage floor, and I am an appreciative audience.  Break a leg!