It called to us, that sea-bitten fragment of a mammoth tree, barnacle-covered skin pliant from salty water, cushioned by dune bluestem, Latin name Schizachyrium littorale we discovered later. We did not run our hands across the few small spaces in the warm, gnarled wood left soft by sand or the rubbing of someone’s daily sitting. It was a place of solitude and magic vistas, dark, flat earth exposed by tides against the coastal sky, absent of tension, so still. We should have wallowed in the unbearable beauty of the setting.
Daily Prompt: Solitude