Reflections at the Fort Macon Jetty...

The Jetty.  

Emblem of man's eternal struggle against the forces of nature. 

Impertinent sea! Incorrigible sand! 

Can't you see we've built a fortress here?! How dare you move it?! 

Come along now, waves, let's see what you do with ten thousand tons of granite!

Amorphous island shaped by the seas for countless centuries welcomes the unyielding granite boulders, rough edges already worn smooth in a few brief decades by the relentless caress of millions of tons of water and salt and sand, by the barnacles, and mussels and oysters and still more sand. 

Tides surge forward, then relent, hour after hour, day after day, as they've moved for millennia by the moon's sleight of hand. 

Wind and rain play no small part, as the ancient mountain stones imperceptibly multiply, pulverized in super slow motion, newly liberated particles collaborating with their predecessors to grind away at the mother stone.

Bird reflects, and bird knows.

Peering from the surface of the sand-lined tidal pool, nestled in the bosom of the boulder, the bird knows the sand, and the tides, and the waves, and the wind and the rain. The bird knows the barnacles, and the mussels, and the oysters, and the boulders, and all that sand. 

With feet, and legs and bill and eyes and eyelids and oil glands and feathers shaped by the sand, and the tides, and the winds, and the rain, and nourished by the barnacles, and the mussels, and the oysters and the other food hidden in the boulders and all that sand, the bird reflects, and the bird knows. 

Time is its teacher. Unhurried, unharried, eternal and unending. 

Man races in for the briefest of moments. He sees and smiles and snaps his photos and leaves. 

The bird preens, and reflects, unhurried and unharried. Time passes, and the bird knows.

Will man ever know?

 Time will tell...