Happy Monday! Today is yet another Be My Guest Monday! You should definitely click that link and let me know if you'd like to be one of my guest bloggers!
Today's guest blogger is proving yet again that the quality of my blog goes up every time I have someone else write for it. :) Please welcome Sabrina from Nouns Make Verbs. This is one of the first blogs that I started following, and I am so very glad I did! Enjoy...
Useful
Tumbling with the waves as they rolled foaming, the glass bumped into the gritty sand. Yesterday the waves were angry, crashing on the shore, but today they slid up, nonchalant, rolling. The gulls skipped out of their way. They were bored and fighting over nothing, because there was nothing to eat, and they fought loudly.
The glass was sharp. It was a bottle an hour ago and useful, but now broken; forgotten, unwanted and broken. Its pieces were pretty but missing from each other and less useful, even dangerous. It skipped along in the grit. As the foam cleared with each wave, the glass glimmered soft blue.
Smallish things scurried past it, over it, under it. The sun above it was a strange yellow ball. There was a constant humming, the power of the ocean humming. The waves rolled the glass along the grit. They licked the shore and rolled the glass, whose sides were becoming dull as it tumbled.
The yellow ball of a sun went down and it was dark. Sometimes the glass was on the beach and there was no water, but the gulls were there fighting over what was left to eat, grabbing and fighting. A gull picked the glass up and flew with it for a moment, then dropped it. Forgotten and left, and also broken.
Haunting waves, moody waves, gentle waves, as the yellow sun rose and sank again and again. Time by the ocean. Time, with waves rolling, is all of time and also is no time, because it is the same always, without mercy. The glass was changing. It was cloudy now, its edges quite smooth. It shone soft blue but in a different way.
It had become useful again, no longer dangerous. The yellow sun rose once again and people came to walk in the surf and laugh at the fighting gulls, fighting about the food they brought. Their umbrellas and towels and laughter filled the beach.
The waves were soft today for the people. They rolled onto the sand like a mother rolling a ball to her baby. The glass tumbled with them and landed at the feet of a young girl who saw things. She picked it up and put it in her pocket.
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