There are moments when looking closely at even the mundane suddenly reveals some new magic that remained hidden for too long.  Nothing more complicated than waves breaking upon the shore can transport us, shelter us, cradle us.  In that moment of seeing—truly seeing—we can delight in newfound discovery.

I had stood on the eastern shore of White Rock Lake snapping photos of every little thing.  Then I approached a tiny cove with a sandy, rocky bottom where the rough waters pushed in relentlessly, dashing themselves against the edge time and again, roiling and rolling, each singing a different song, each dancing a different dance.  I became mesmerized by it all, carried away by an escape that no one interrupted and that seemed made just for me.