Tame birds sing of freedom, wild birds fly.
~ John Lennon

A quick overnight out of town. I ended up staying at a nice little place just across the road from a beautiful New England beach.

I woke just after dawn. I missed the sunrise, but I got myself up anyway and sleepily walked over to the shore, letting the salty air and cold sea breeze wake me the rest of the way.

The early morning light was soft and beautiful. Everything was quiet. The waves crashed steadily, and the seagulls gathered at the water’s edge, looking like a row of little old men—until they took flight, transforming into graceful figures with outstretched wings.

Quiet, gentle beginnings like this are my kind of morning. Just me, the surf, and the seagulls.

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