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Far From The Rising Tide
"Really!" he exclaimed in passionate excitement.
"Yeah, it’s the tide man, it’s crested all across the coast; everyone’s moving inland," the surfer announced.
Sydney Buckle was an adventure junkie, an aficionado de la disaster. Sydney smiled in curious doubt, he had heard the news reports, a sudden wave of heat, a two degree temperature change near the South Pole had occurred. Icebergs in giant mass had eroded filling the surrounding ocean waves with millions of tears and tons of watery will.
Sydney stood his ground looking Eastward then West. Sunshine and glory, dawns day and the twilight fray. Sydney was on high ground and he waited in care and tempered excitement.
"I wonder if it’ll get this far." he whispered to himself. Sydney slept on the front porch that night in anxious flames of desire, desire for the rolling waves and the tides pull. When he awoke the next morning to the sound of sparrows and whip-o-wills, he yawned and wished for the distant surf, wandering, vagabond, encroaching. Finally, he sighed in resignation for he was far from the rising tide.
