Watching the Sea Go

Thirty seconds of yellow lichen. Thirty seconds of coil and surge, fern and froth, thirty seconds of salt, rock, fog, spray. Clouds moving slowly to the left— A door in a rock through which you could see __ another rock, laved by the weedy tide. Like filming breathing—thirty seconds of tidal drag, fingering the smaller stones down the black beach—what color was that, aquamarine? Starfish spread their salmon-colored hands. __ I stood and I shot them. I stood and I watched them right after I shot them: thirty seconds of smashed sea while the real sea thrashed and heaved— They were the most boring movies ever made. I wanted to mount them together and press Play. __ Thirty seconds of waves colliding. Kelp with its open attitudes, seals riding the swells, curved in a row just under the water— the sea, over and over. Before it's over.